Missing in Action
by AstraPerAspera
Summary: A SamJack story set in S4 of SGA. It's one thing to come back from a mission with a team member missing it's another thing when that team member is the CO of Atlantis and its altogether another thing when that CO is Gen. O'Neill's wife.
1. Teaser

**STARGATE: ATLANTIS**

**MISSING IN ACTION**

**Teaser**

"Jack! Jack! JACK!" The screams rent the silence of the night and brought several pairs of feet padding hurriedly down the leaf-strewn path to the tent from which the heart-wrenching cry had come.

Arisha met them at the entrance and motioned them inside, her eyes wide with fright.

"Hurry. Hurry! There is something wrong," she pleaded in a loud whisper, stepping aside so they could slip through the narrow opening.

It was only slightly lighter inside than out; the meager lamp that sputtered on the nearby upturned box cast an anemic circle of light that left much of the tent in shadow. But they could make out the woman on the bed regardless. She was sitting bolt upright, her long blond hair, dirty and matted as when they had found her, half-concealing her face. There was a feral look about her, almost like that of a wonkat when it was cornered, and her eyes were darting back and forth from Arisha to the two who had just entered. She looked as if any moment she might bolt from the tent, in spite of the fact that there was just enough of a look of pain in her eyes to acknowledge her broken arm and damaged skull.

"She seemed to be dreaming…then she started to call out. It frightened me…but before I could come for you she woke up and…." Arisha gestured to the rigid form on the bed, as if they could see for themselves what had happened next. Which of course, they did.

"It is all right, Arisha. You have done nothing wrong. We will take care of her now. You may go to your dwelling, if you like," the one named Malana said. Arisha looked at the stranger for a moment and then back at Malana, hesitating.

"I would prefer to stay…if I may. Perhaps I can be of further help."

Malana looked at Zetra who nodded. An extra hand would not hurt with this one and perhaps Arisha would learn as well.

"Very well, then," agreed Malana. "But do not interfere unless we ask you to," she added.

"Thank you," whispered Arisha and then pulled back into the shadows, where she could stay out of the way yet still observe, Zetra noticed, with a slight smile. She had always been a curious one, that Arisha.

Malana had already moved on to the task at hand and was sizing up the stranger. Typical Malana, looking at her like she was problem to be solved rather than a person to be cared for. Zetra took a step closer, and when the stranger did not flinch, took another. Even in the dim light she could see the place on her skull where the scab had formed and the bruise was darkening. There was little wonder she had slept so long. Her brain had probably been injured.

"Do not be afraid," murmured Zetra, trying to calm the woman with her voice before Malana jumped in with her armload of questions. "We will not harm you. We have been trying to help you. Your arm," she pointed at the woman's arm, carefully splinted and wrapped. "It has been broken and your head," she pointed at the woman's skull. "It seems to have been injured as well."

"Where am I?" the woman asked, her eyes searching the tent, taking in everything, Zetra could tell. She seemed to have a keen power of observation. Zetra was sure not an item in the small area escaped her notice, not even Arisha standing back in the shadows.

"This is our encampment. At least for the time-being. You will be safe with us while you heal, and it will be many weeks before it is time for us to move."

The woman winced as she tried to move her splinted arm.

"I would not upset that just yet," Zetra warned her. "The bandage needs to harden if it is to set properly. How does your head feel?"

The stranger's free hand found the bruise on the side of her head and touched it gingerly.

"It feels…tender," she replied. Zetra nodded.

"I am not surprised. We believe you were struck there with some force. Can you tell us how you came to be in such condition?"

She saw the woman struggle to think. Even in her current state she was, Zetra could tell, highly intelligent. There was a brightness in her eyes that bespoke a keen intellect and quick mind. Zetra rarely failed to recognize others who shared her own traits; she had an extra sense when it came to discovering a like-minded person. Whoever this woman was, she was someone Zetra knew she could talk with as an equal, once, of course, she had healed.

Something akin to panic was now on the woman's face. Her memory seemed to be failing her.

"No…I…no. I don't remember what happened." She looked pleadingly at Zetra, as if she might have the answers. Zetra wished she did.

"Then perhaps you can at least tell us your name. If we know that, we might be able to locate where it is you came from."

The woman concentrated again and now there was indeed panic in her eyes. She looked up at Zetra then over a Malana and back to Zetra again, lost.

"I can't remember…I…I have no idea."

"You were shouting something a while ago—it sounded like a name. 'Jack'," interrupted Malana in a tone Zetra would have preferred to have been a little more gentle. "Would that be you?" Malana was not into softening anything. She always hit the questions head-on. Fortunately, her abruptness did not seem to bother the stranger. Instead, she chewed her lip a moment and then shook her head.

"I don't think so." The woman put her hand up to her head again and squeezed her eyes shut. Zetra knew they must leave her to rest more, but she had one more question.

"Then perhaps this may be of some help. You were wearing these when we found you. There is writing of some nature on them. Can you read it?"

She stepped forward and handed the woman the plain necklace they had taken from around her neck on which hung two metal rectangles framed by a softer substance. The woman cupped them in her hands and Zetra thought she saw a momentary flicker of recognition on her face. Perhaps now they would get somewhere.

Leaning so the light was better, the woman squinted at the framed metal tags.

"I…yes. I can read this. It says: 'Carter, Samantha. Col. USAF'. The rest are numbers."

Zetra took the necklace back and studied it herself for a moment.

"Is that you?" she asked, looking up into the still uncertain face of their guest. The strange woman shrugged.

"It might be…I don't know."

Zetra gave the matter futher thought. They needed to call her something. And if she was wearing this it was possible it might have been some kind of identification. Until the woman's memory returned or they learned otherwise, it was as good a name as any.

"For now, then, we will call you Carter, if you have no objection." The woman did not appear to have any, so Zetra nodded. "Fine. Now, I believe you require further rest. This is Arisha." She motioned toward the shadows and the girl stepped forward. "She is here to care for your needs. We will return in the morning and check on your progress. When you are a little better rested we will be able to take you outside, For now, though, I suggest you go back to sleep. I believe you will feel better in the morning and perhaps by then your memory will have returned."

The woman nodded and lay back down compliantly. Zetra tugged at Malana's sleeve and the two women left the tent.

Only after they were well out of earshot did Malana speak.

"You didn't tell her."

"No."

Malana would persist.

"And why not?"

Zetra shook her head, more at Malana's lack of empathy than her question.

"I do not think learning that now would have helped her. Besides. It is possible she did not even know—or would have remembered. It was too small to even quicken."

Malana barely hesitated.

"She should be told."

Zetra nodded. Yes, she must.

"In time. When she is stronger."

Three strides later the question she had been expecting emerged from her companion in the dark.

"Did you see her eyes, Zetra?"

"I saw."

"They are blue."

"Yes."

Malana seemed to wait for her to say more, but Zetra chose to keep silent. She knew Malana would not.

"How has she lived to this age? Why did the Brothers not take her when she was a child?"

"I do not know. Perhaps her family has kept her hidden all these years."

"Then they are fools." Malana's retort was swift and left little room for argument. And Zetra was too tired.

"Perhaps."

"What are we going to do with her? If anyone should find her here…."

"For now we will simply care for her until she is well. It is our duty, even to a stranger."

Malana humphed as they walked side by side.

"And then what?"

Zetra sighed.

"I do not know. We will have to wait and see."


	2. Act 1

**ACT 1**

John Sheppard never minded pissing people off. And he especially never minded it when the person he was pissing off was a superior officer. In fact, he kind of had a running tally of how many SO's he'd actually pissed off in his time and he held it as a personal mark of distinction that he had so many notches on his mental belt.

There was one superior officer, however, whom he had hoped never to irritate or disappoint, not because he feared him, but because he liked him—even more, respected him. That in and of itself was noteworthy because he could count on one hand the number of people, military or otherwise, he had ever held in that high of regard. Most of them he worked with on a day to day basis. One was no longer here—and he felt her absence keenly. The last one was General Jack O'Neill.

And it was General Jack O'Neill who was glaring at him at this moment with barely concealed fury and a look that would have withered even the most combat-hardened soldier.

Oh yeah. He had screwed up. And he had screwed up big time.

It was one thing to come back from a mission with a team member missing.

It was another thing when that team member was the commander of the whole Atlantis base.

And it was a completely different thing when that commander was General O'Neill's wife.

_We don't leave people behind._

It was the code. His personal code. And he knew it was General O'Neill's code.

And yet he'd done it. Unknowingly, admittedly, but that didn't really change anything.

Colonel Carter was missing, and he hadn't a clue where she was.

Oh yeah. He pretty much felt like crap. O'Neill had every reason to be giving him the look he was giving him. He deserved it.

Bracing himself for what he knew was about to hit the fan, Sheppard took a deep breath and stared at the floor, waiting.

"How the hell did this happen?"

Sheppard glanced up. He'd been expecting the full fury of the general's wrath. Instead there was an eerie calmness to the man's voice, husky with the tone of an emotion Sheppard could not at first pinpoint. Then it hit him. He risked another peek at the general and confirmed it. Side by side with the anger was something he hadn't ever seen on the man's face—not when the rogue drone had nearly taken out their chopper in Antarctica, not even when the replicators had taken him prisoner on Atlantis. And seeing it there now, and knowing somehow that he was responsible, made Sheppard feel twice as bad as he already did, and he had truly thought he could never feel any worse. Because what he himself, John Sheppard, had put on General O'Neill's face was fear.

Sheppard swallowed. He knew now exactly how the hell this had happened, thanks to McKay and Zelenka, who'd finally figured it out. But he had a feeling that wasn't quite what General O'Neill meant. Still. It was the only answer he had at the moment so he offered it up.

"We were heading back through the gate, sir, taking fire. Colonel Carter was holding the gate open from that end, so we could be sure to get some of the slower refugees through. I came through just before her and I could have sworn she was right behind me. But when I got to Atlantis there was some sort of power surge and the gate shut down. We dialed back right away and sent a radio signal, but she didn't respond. So we sent a MALP. We still couldn't see any sign of her, but then the MALP took a direct hit and stopped transmitting."

He took a deep breath. He'd been rehashing the whole scenario over and over again since it happened, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. He'd known he'd have to lay it all out like this, first for Landry, then the IOA. You couldn't lose your CO and not have every action you took put under a microscope for scrutiny. Still, he had never figured he'd have to face O'Neill himself. Thanks to the intergalactic bridge, it had taken only an hour, though, for the general to appear. Hardly time to figure it all out.

"We kept dialing back periodically," he went on. "Sending a radio transmission, in case she could hear us. After about a half hour we sent another MALP and when the area seemed secure we sent a team back through. There was no sign of her, sir. We even sent up a UAV. I'm…I'm really sorry, General."

Sheppard swallowed hard and tensed even more as he watched the general struggle with his report. The man's jaws were clenching and unclenching, a sure indication of his effort to keep his emotions in check. Sheppard admired the man even more and felt all the worse for it.

"So you're saying she was taken prisoner," the general finally said after what had become an uncomfortable few moments of dead silence. Sheppard was about to respond when McKay opened his mouth. Sheppard was amazed that Rodney hadn't spoken up til now. He usually was not one to hesitate throwing in his two cents regardless of the situation. Except, of course, in this case.

"Not…necessarily, General," said McKay, with a side glance at Sheppard, almost as if he were asking permission to continue. Sheppard nodded slightly. It was rare to see McKay so reticent. It had to be because of O'Neill. They guy was just cowed.

"We analyzed the power surge that struck the gate just after Colonel Sheppard stepped through, and we think it was caused by the gate being hit directly at the other end by enemy fire."

O'Neill seemed to blanche. A dark veil slid across his eyes and Sheppard could have sworn he looked like he had thrown a switch. His face lost all emotion and there was a stony set to his jaw. Sheppard thought he was looking at a statue of the man who had been standing there moments before.

"Then she's dead," he said flatly, in the same husky voice as before.

"Ah…we don't think so," McKay contradicted, still glancing nervously at Sheppard. "You see, when we compared the recording of the surge to the gate with other energy patterns in the data base, we found one that was disturbingly familiar."

Sheppard was watching O'Neill and he was sure what Rodney was talking about was not sinking in. It hadn't on him at first either. Maybe it was McKay's superfast speed, which was even faster now, seeing as how he was obviously nervous.

When O'Neill made no reply, Rodney forged ahead.

"Ahh. Yes. Well. Like I said, it was disturbingly familiar because it was nearly identical to the energy blast that caused the wormhole to jump to the alternate gate in Antarctica that time you and Colonel Carter…I mean, at the time she was Captain Carter, I believe…or maybe she was Major by then, I can't remember…"

"McKay…" growled Sheppard, warningly. Rodney looked at him as if he were just noticing him for the first time and then looked back at General O'Neill.

"Wh…? Oh. Right. Sorry. Like I said, it was the same energy pattern that caused the wormhole to jump on earth."

O'Neill was studying him.

"But we had two gates on earth. Are you saying there are two gates in Atlantis?"

Sheppard and Rodney exchanged glances. That had been their first theory too, but they'd discounted that.

"No, sir," replied Sheppard, cautiously. "We're pretty sure this is the only one."

"But…" interrupted McKay. "It only jumped to the other earth gate because there _was_ another earth gate. If there hadn't been a second gate buried in Antarctica then it probably would have jumped to another gate somewhere in the corridor between the source planet and the target planet. And that's what we think happened here."

Sheppard saw the general take in what McKay had said and turn it over carefully in his mind.

"So, how many planets are we talking about here?" he asked finally. Sheppard had to keep from wincing as Rodney stammered over his answer.

"Well, it's really hard to make an absolute boundary of the corridor, considering the force of the blast and the likelihood that the wormhole…."

"McKay…" the implied threat from O'Neill made Rodney gulp.

"Oh…around, maybe… eighty or ninety…give or take," he answered in a small, quavery voice. O'Neill gaped at him.

"_Eighty or ninety_?" The general's voice was incredulous. Rodney looked apologetic.

"Yes, well…unfortunately, there are lots of gated worlds between the one where Colonel Carter…ah…disappeared and where Atlantis is now…." the scientist's voice trailed off.

Sheppard watched the general close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opened them again he seemed resigned somehow.

"Fine. We'll do this systematically. Start with those gates in direct line between the two planets and gradually widen the search. How many teams are available?"

Sheppard had known this was coming. He'd marshaled as many teams as was possible, but the fact was there was only the fraction of the resources available in Atlantis as there were at the SGC. He had thirty men and that was it. He told the general.

O'Neill ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up almost on end.

"Keep two teams here as back-up. Send the rest out after MALP recon. When Colonel Carter and I were thrown out of the gate in Antarctica it was a rather…violent experience. Seeing as how she hasn't dialed back by now, I think it's safe to assume she's been injured. In which case she won't be too far from the gate. That could speed things up some."

O'Neill fell silent, staring off in the direction of the gate. Sheppard wasn't sure if he had been dismissed or not. He shifted position slightly, hoping to remind O'Neill he was still there. It worked. The general focused on him.

"What?" he asked irritably, although Sheppard suspected he wasn't really reacting to his standing there. "Go…go!"

With a glance at McKay, they left Colonel Carter's office.

Yeah. Losing the general's wife.

Not exactly how he liked to start the day.

o-o-o-o

Jack watched the retreating backs of Sheppard and McKay for a moment and then turned toward the obsessively neat desk in an effort to pull himself together. It didn't help. The way everything was precisely placed, just like on her desk at home, screamed "Sam" at him. Nope. Didn't help at all. And why, for crying out loud, did every CO's office in Stargate have to have a damned window in it so that the whole rest of the world could see what was going on in there. Hadn't they ever heard the word "privacy"?

He made to sit down in her chair, as if even sitting where she had sat might make him feel better, but he couldn't. Every muscle was twitching to do something, take some action, make some move. He couldn't. Just. Sit. And. Wait. And yet he had to. That was his job, just like Sheppard's was to go out and find Sam.

Since he couldn't sit he paced. This was the first time he'd been to Atlantis since she had, ever so reluctantly, accepted the posting here. In fact, he'd made a point of specifically staying away. The rumor mill was always grinding something out and there were whisperings among a few who had found out about their relationship that the plum posting of Atlantis base commander had been a wedding gift from the general to his wife. Sam had nearly blown a gasket when she'd heard that. Her rant had lasted a full twenty minutes by Jack's watch, and when she'd missed a few points about why that was, without a doubt, the stupidest and most asinine conclusion anyone could ever come to, he'd offered her a few choice remarks of his own to round out her argument. It had had the desired effect and she'd cooled down a little; still, the whole thing continued to be a testy topic for her. So he had stayed away.

It had been hell. The Colorado Springs to DC distance had been painful enough. Being in two separate galaxies…well, it was mind-boggling. It gave a whole new meaning to the term "commuter marriage". Being new to the job, Sam had felt like she couldn't just bug-out when her first scheduled leave came, so she'd forgone not only her first but also her second chance to come home, hoping it would help her fit in better with what was already a fairly well-established senior leadership.

And as usual, her instincts had been good; events in the Pegasus Galaxy had an eerie ability to mimic the life they'd known at the SGC, with Murphy's Law seemingly at work no matter what corner of the universe a person chose to occupy. Sam being there at a few critical times had helped cement her position as base commander, especially among those who had been suspicious of her at the start. A worthwhile sacrifice of her personal time.

The third time, though, Jack had insisted. Threatened to make it an order. The damned bed was too big, and after two months of gloriously holding her in his arms every single night, having to go the next three months without even seeing her, except on the damned monitor, was excruciating. He ached for her. Not just with his body, but with his spirit and his mind. He needed to hear her voice telling him things he didn't understand and didn't want to, he needed to watch her smile light up the room when he said something deliberately stupid to provoke it, he needed the mundaneness of having her complain that she'd seen this episode of the Simson's five times already and for crying out loud couldn't they watch something else for a change. And he needed to hold her, smell her, kiss her, make love to her, sleep with his arms wrapped around her to protect her in the only way he could.

The way he couldn't protect her when she was here. Alone. Without him.

He found he was staring at the pictures she'd so carefully placed on the credenza behind her desk. There was one of Cassie. Jack hadn't called her yet. Really, what was the point? Until he knew something for sure, there was no reason to disrupt her life. The kid had already lost too much—had even almost lost Sam herself, last year. He couldn't throw this at her until he knew what he was dealing with for sure.

The next picture was of Teal'c. Now that the Ori were history and Mitchell was settled in with a new SG1, Teal'c had gone back to try to reconstruct the Jaffa High Council along with Bra'tac. The photo of Teal'c was taken before he'd magically aged fifty years and with a rarely seen Teal'c smile. There were some things about the old days he missed, and hanging out with T was one of them. The big guy had a grounding quality to him that had always helped put things in perspective. And if he could use anything now, it was some grounded perspective.

The photo of Daniel, he realized, was from their wedding. Oh yeah. Danny-boy had gotten himself a new tux just for the occasion, and the thing was so crisp and black it fairly crackled in the frame. It sat next to a picture of Jacob Carter that Jack had never seen before. It was a younger Jacob than the one he'd known. A pre-Selmak Jacob, all decked out in his general's uniform. An interesting choice, considering Sam and this Jacob had never gotten along so good. He'd have to ask her about it. If he got the chance.

Not a good place to go, he realized too late. He'd been doing a decent job of calming down. That thought hadn't helped. He picked up the last picture and studied it. Of course she would choose this one. Two small figures perched on a dock, lines stretched out over a pond. A person would have to look very carefully to see it was him under that cap, although Sam's blond hair, back when it was short, was pretty much a give-away. He wondered vaguely who the hell had taken the picture. It had to have been Daniel. Teal'c didn't mess much with common earth technology like cameras. Daniel hadn't realized it at the time, but the shot had captured probably the greatest day in Jack's life. It had been that evening, after their erstwhile chaperones had gone to bed that he and Sam and finally talked. And when talking had no longer been necessary…oh yeah. A _great_ day. No wonder Sam had chosen this particular picture. In spite of everything, Jack had to grin. Fishing. It had taken on a whole new meaning for them after that night.

He set the picture back down, careful to angle it just has she had left it. He didn't want to disturb anything in her office, not even a damned paperclip, if he could help it. It had to be waiting for her when she came back, exactly as she'd left it. Just like they'd left Charlie's room….

God. Where had that thought come from? Jack pushed it away, angrily, trying to block out the image of a small boy's bedroom filled with baseball trophies and model airplanes and hand-drawn pictures of "Colonel Daddy" taped on the wall. The word "shrine" popped into his head. No. He wouldn't do that. Not again. The office wasn't a shrine. She would be back. Sitting in the chair. Glancing at the pictures. Fiddling with the damned pyramid paperweight he'd given her as a joke because it looked like a goa'uld mothership.

And even though it went against every instinct to keep it just so, Jack pulled out the chair and sat down in it. Shrine be damned. He futzed with the neat stack of papers. A paperclip dropped to the floor. Good. It would give her something to do when she got back. She'd yell at him for messing in her stuff. He'd love it. For good measure he reached behind him and rearranged the pictures. Even better. Through the window he could see Sheppard and his team conferring. Action. Good. It meant something was about to happen. And something was a whole lot better than nothing. They'd find her. She'd be back in no time.

And as if somehow it might assure it, he pulled a pencil out of the drawer and left it haphazardly on the desk before he headed out to hear Sheppard's plan of attack.

o-o-o-o

She remembered…something. The memory flitted on the edge of her brain, but each time she reached for it, it danced maddeningly out of her mind's reach. But it was there. Somewhere. It had to be. Being…well, being no one, was too terrifying. Like looking in a mirror and seeing no reflection. Odd that she should know what a mirror was and yet not even know her own name. Carter. The dogtag had said Carter. Dogtag. How did she known that? But that's what it was. And it was hers. It belonged around her neck. It had to be around her neck. She was almost panicked at the thought of it not being there. The woman, the small one, had taken it back. Placed it in her pocket. But she, Carter, she needed it back. Now.

Propping herself up on her elbow she looked frantically for the girl they had left behind. Arisha. She was seated on a stool, as far away as she could get yet still be within the circle of light. She was…reading.

Her throat was dry from unuse and it took her a couple of tries to get sound out.

"Hey." Her voice was still hoarse. Husky.

The girl looked up, startled.

Carter tried to smile.

"That…necklace…the one the other woman showed me. The one with my name on it," she managed. The girl nodded.

"I really, really need to have that back."

Arisha frowned at her.

"You remember more now?"

Carter closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No," she admitted, looking at the girl again. "Not really. But I do know that I'm supposed to wear that…necklace. It's called a dogtag. And I really have to have it. Do you think you could get it for me."

The girl glanced at the entrance to the tent and then back at Carter.

"I'm not supposed to leave you alone. The others will be back in the morning. When Zetra returns, I will tell her."

Some of the panic of not having the dogtag returned, but Carter forced it down. The girl's look was adamant, and in her condition there was nothing else she could do. Managing a small smile, she lay back down, suddenly exhausted.

Zetra. The smaller woman. She would have to remember that.

Wondering how long until morning, she stared at the ceiling of the tent and the shapeless shadows that lurked there, willing herself to remember more. Dogtag. Carter. Well. It was a start.

The memory twirled tauntingly on the edges of her thoughts again, nearly formed, and then dissipated. She sighed and closed her eyes. The pain in her head was returning. She needed to rest. Perhaps when she woke up the memory would be there. Maybe they all would.

"Help me, sir," she whispered absently. She didn't know why. But somehow it brought her comfort.


	3. Act 2

**ACT 2**

"Come on, Rodney. There's got to be a way to narrow this down. Do some of that voodoo you do…." Sheppard tried not to sound exasperated, but after six trips through the gate inside of three hours his level of frustration was rising. And it didn't help to look up each time they came back and see O'Neill's eyes dark with disappointment staring down at them from Carter's office.

"Trust me…if there was any way I could eliminate even a tenth of the planets from our list, I would have already done it." Sheppard saw him glance up at the general and then quickly away. "He's going to have me shot, isn't he?"

"If I said yes, would that spark any kind of creative solution to our dilemma?"

McKay contemplated this for a couple of seconds, shrugged and said: 

"Probably not."

"Okay. Then yes. He's going to have you shot. Right after he shoots me."

"I do not think General O'Neill holds you personally responsible for what happened to Colonel Carter," remarked Teyla consolingly. Sheppard looked again at the man standing in Carter's office. She was probably right, but at the moment, that didn't matter. Whether the general held him responsible or not, he felt responsible. It had been his mission.

"Yeah…I wouldn't count on that," he mumbled, trudging over to the stairway leading up to the control room. Obviously the other teams out there hadn't come up with anything yet either. Time to get their next assignment, freshen up and move out.

"How long are we going to keep doing this?" Ronan's voice rumbled quietly as he took the steps in stride with Sheppard. John looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean, how long are we going to keep every team we have out there looking? Look, I'm no expert on wormholes or anything, but I think no one has said out loud what everybody's thinking," continued Ronan. Sheppard stopped halfway up the steps and turned to him.

"And what exactly is that?" he asked, challengingly. Normally he didn't go head to head with Ronan, but the big guy had something on his mind and Sheppard wanted to hear it.

The Satedan looked over his head to where John knew he could see O'Neill and then back down at Sheppard.

"That she's dead," he said bluntly. As bluntly as Sheppard had expected. Even so, it felt like he'd swallowed a stone. He turned away and started to climb again. Ronan fell in step beside him.

"She's not dead," he replied, willing himself to sound convinced of that. "McKay said the energy…"

"I know what McKay said," interrupted Ronan. "But it's wishful thinking. The wormhole collapsed. She was inside. She's dead. You know it and I know it."

Sheppard stopped again and pulled Ronan over to the side. The bigger man looked surprised at being manhandled but John didn't care. He glanced again at O'Neill to make sure he wasn't within earshot, and after checking that no one else was either, he gave Ronan the sternest look he could manage.

"No…I don't know it. And until someone can prove to me that she is, we keep looking. We don't leave our people behind. You of all people should know that."

While Sheppard wouldn't exactly describe Ronan's look as chastised, at least he didn't answer back. Sheppard hung onto his stare another moment for emphasis and returned to his advance on the control room.

He didn't need that kind of talk or that kind of attitude. And he especially didn't need it because he was fighting hard to keep it at bay himself. A part of his brain was whispering that Ronan was right, that this was just a gargantuan waste of time and manpower. There was no evidence, even if the gate did jump, that Colonel Carter had made it to another planet in one piece. And the likelihood that she had been killed either just as she entered the wormhole or while in transit seemed greater with each passing failure.

To be honest, he could not see themselves traveling to every planet on McKay's list. Even General O'Neill would have to concede that it was beyond the scope of reasonable to do that. There were bigger fish frying in the Pegasus Galaxy these days, and they would have to return to the issue of the Replicators sooner rather than later. Not to mention the Wraith. The lull they were in at the moment was temporary at best.

Still, it wasn't his call, and for that he was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do was to face General O'Neill and tell him that they had given up on trying to find Colonel Carter. For that he was more than happy to turn the responsibility over to Landry.

But he didn't see that happening yet. And as tedious as it was, he was determined to keep looking for as long as possible.

Making a point of not glancing at the general, he headed off for a stout cup of coffee, a quick shower and a major dose of optimism before they dialed up the seventh planet on their list.

o-o-o-o

"Dog tag?" The one called Zetra looked at the item in her hand with a puzzled look. "I have never heard of such a thing. But you remembered it?"

Carter nodded.

"I don't know how, I just…it just came to me. Can I have it back…please?" she tried not to let the desperation she felt seep into her voice, but a part of her was screaming to grab it out of the other woman's hand. Fortunately, Zetra nodded and let it slither into Carter's hand from her own. Relief spread over her as she felt the cool metal and she quickly slipped it over her head and felt the familiar weight of it against her chest. Some of her disquiet ceased. It almost made her feel at home. Wherever that was.

"Thanks," she offered Zetra a genuine smile. The woman's return smile was guarded and Carter couldn't help but notice that she regarded her with a most peculiar expression. The other woman…Malana…kept her distance and said nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Zetra leaned in toward her now and examined the bruise on her head. Carter winced at her touch, even though it was gentle.

"Better. At least my headache is gone."

"And your arm?" She sat back and assessed the now hardened bandage that protected her broken arm. It throbbed a little, but not nearly as badly as before.

"It feels okay."

Zetra nodded approvingly.

"The bandage has set. It should heal properly now. You have injured that arm before, I think."

Carter shrugged.

"Maybe…I don't know."

"There was a weakness to it. This time it will mend stronger."

Carter nodded. She certainly couldn't complain about how they had cared for her. She only wished she knew more about how she had come to be here.

"Could you…please, tell me again how you found me? Where was I?"

Zetra and Malana exchanged glances. Malana's mouth drew itself into a thin line before she answered.

"You were in the temple ruins. At the foot of one of the standing stones, not far from the great ring. It was I who discovered you. Along with Arisha. At first we thought you were dead. There was a great deal of blood."

"It was fortunate that Malian had gone to find some tendra root that day," interjected Zetra, her voice a little softer than Malana's harsh tone. "It only grows in the ruins of the old temple. Otherwise she would not have found you, and it is unlikely any others would have. Very few people ever venture to the Temple of the Altera any more."

Carter closed her eyes, trying to remember. She could remember loud noises. Shouting. Pain shunting through her entire body. But they were all disconnected, and she wasn't sure if they were all tied together in sequence or just bits and pieces of her life trying to surface.

She opened her eyes and found Zetra staring at her intently.

"Any memory of how you came to be there?" she asked quietly. Carter shook her head.

"Not really. Just…I don't know. Flashes. It may have nothing to do at all with what happened to me."

Zetra nodded.

"Very well. We will let it be for now."

The women made to leave, but Carter reached out her hand and touched Zetra's arm. The woman froze, and Carter sensed that it took every effort the other woman had not to pull her arm away in revulsion.

"Thank you for taking care of me. Whatever I can do to repay you…."

"Think nothing of if," Zetra replied, easing herself up and away from Carter's hand. "It is our purpose to heal the sick and care for those who are injured. It is what we have been put on this world by the Altera to do. Even for strangers." At this Carter noticed that Zetra glanced at Malana with what might have been an admonishing look. Malana scowled slightly before turning on her heels and leaving the tent.

"Have I done something to offend her?" Carter asked, tentatively. That Malana did not like her was obvious. She just wondered why.

"Done anything? No," Zetra replied, with a sigh. "Rest a while. When you feel up to it, send Arisha to get me and we will take you walking in a little bit."

And with that, she followed Malana out of the tent.

Alone again, except for Arisha, who was more shadow than person, Carter lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Her hand went instinctively to the tags around her neck and she grasped them tightly, as if somehow they might open her mind and let the memories come flooding back through.

Carter… Sir? 

It was just a snippet. But she remembered. She remembered…what? A voice. A name. Her name. Carter. Just like it said on the dogtag. But something about it wasn't quite right. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

Yeah. Like she couldn't put her finger on a lot of things, right at the moment.

She held the dogtag up and studied the writing on it again.

Carter, Samantha, Col., USAF 

Carter. Samantha. Sam.

Sam.

That was…familiar. That was her name. Sam. Carter was…well, it was her name too, but not her given name.

"I am Sam," she murmured aloud. And then for no apparent reason felt compelled to say "Sam I am." Why she grinned at that, she wasn't sure, but for some reason it made her giggle.

It got Arisha's attention.

"Are you all right?" the girl asked, coming near her, but not too near.

Sam couldn't help smiling with excitement.

"I think…I think I remember my name. It's Sam. Short for Samantha. This second name, here," she pointed at the dog tag. Arisha's eyes glanced down but she did not come close enough to read it.

"This is good," Arisha responded, shyly. Sam nodded.

"Yes! It is. Now maybe the rest of it will start to come back," she replied. Arisha turned away, but Sam called after her.

"Why…why does Malana dislike me? And why are you and Zetra afraid of me?"

Arisha shook her head and backed away.

"I cannot say. It is not my place. I am only a learner."

Sam cocked her head.

"What do you learn?"

"The ways of the Sisterhood. How to care for the sick and tend to the dying. Which plants to gather for medicines and how to mix the medicines together for different illnesses. How to treat wounds and mend bones. It is what the Altera asks of us."

"The Altera?" asked Sam. Zetra had spoken the same name.

"You do not know the Altera?" whispered Arisha in awe. Sam shook her head and tapped the side of it.

"I don't know much, don't forget," she said ruefully. Arisha nodded, understanding.

"The Altera are those who came before. They were our guardians, our teachers and our benefactors. They built the first temple long, long ago. Longer even than our memory. And it is to honor them that we serve."

"By caring for strangers," added Sam, trying to clarify.

"By caring for everyone. People come from all over to seek our aid. The sisterhood is scattered far and wide, tending to those in need. There are many encampments such as ours across the land."

"Zetra said you will move the encampment," Sam remembered.

Arisha nodded.

"We will remain here another few weeks and then move to our cold weather location. We come here in the warmer days to gather the plants we need for our medicines. But when the snow comes, it is better that we are closer to the cities. It will be my first relocation," she added, timidly. Sam could see there was both pride and excitement in her admission.

"Wow. That will be very exciting for you, I'm sure," she remarked. The girl beamed and raised her eyes to meet Sam's, but then suddenly flinched and looked away.

"I s-should speak no further. You must rest," she stammered.

Sam sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the cot.

"Actually, I'm feeling a lot better. I think I could even walk a little, with some help. It might do me some good."

The girl scurried away.

"Then I will call for Zetra."

Sam still couldn't figure out what she had done.

"I'm sure it would be okay for you to help me," she started, but the way the girl reacted Sam thought it was as if she had suggested she take poison. The youngster backed away.

"No—I mustn't. It is…you are…I will call for Zetra."

And with that she backed out of the tent, leaving Sam alone.

o-o-o-o

They had assigned him the same living quarters he'd had the last two times he'd come to Atlantis in spite of the fact that he had every right and reason to move his gear into Sam's. Still, he hadn't complained. It was in keeping with what she would have preferred, and with what they had agreed to when this whole crappy assignment had come up.

The accommodations hardly mattered anyway. He had barely spent any time in them over the past four days and he was only here now because that pesky young doctor…what was her name?…had insisted. Threatened to make it an order, even—though by the look on her face he could tell it was the first time she'd ever tried that tactic with a three star general. He was sure if he'd put up the least bit of a fight she'd have backed off in an instant. But he had complied, if for no other reason than it gave him a chance to get out of that damn office and away from the prying eyes of everyone who walked into the control room or through the gate.

And he was damned well getting tired of watching that gate. Even more of watching team after team return through the gate only to glance up at him and shake their heads. By his count they'd covered 53 planets so far, and not a single sign of Sam on any of them. One team had gone out of commission when their CO had taken a misstep through the gate and broken his leg, leaving, in effect, only three teams out there searching for her. He'd considered taking over one of the teams himself, but thought better of it. He had no business being out there, and he at least had the good sense to know it. Even if it killed him to admit it.

At the sink he threw some cold water on his face and avoided looking in the mirror as he dried himself off with a towel. That felt a little better, but not much. He supposed he should try to sleep. Yeah. Right. Like that was going to happen. The thoughts he didn't want to think were buzzing in the back of his head like a persistent fly, and he knew if he tried to lay down, tried to rest, that buzzing would become too loud and he'd have to listen to it. And he really, really wasn't ready to listen to those thoughts just yet. He needed more time. Sam needed more time.

His duffle sat squatting on a chair right where the noncom who'd brought it from the gate had left it. Someone had packed for him and sent it through long after he'd taken the intergalactic bridge to Atlantis. He'd rummaged in it for a toothbrush and a razor, but not much else. None of it, he realized, was his stuff, for which he was glad. It was just standard AF-issue, probably right from the SGC. He couldn't stand to think that someone had been to his house—their house—and gone through his things in order to pack him up an off-world kit. Military-issue was fine. It was work. It wasn't personal.

Not like the search.

He was trying like hell to keep his emotions out of it, to be the head of Homeworld Security trying to figure out what happened to the CO of the Atlantis expedition, and for the most part he thought he'd done okay. He hadn't tried to murder McKay when he'd revised his number of possible planets from eighty or ninety to a hundred and ten. He hadn't yelled at Lorne when he suggested that they use MALP reconnaissance only on fifty or sixty percent of the planets in order to speed up the search. And he hadn't demoted Col. Ellis when he'd suggested that they take this opportunity to thoroughly assess any risks that might be present on the planets they visited, effectively doubling the search teams' time at each location.

But the act was wearing thin. He was wearing thin.

And time was running out.

If he knew anything at all for certain, it was that.

And as much as he would have liked to personally search every planet in the Pegasus Galaxy, they could not afford the resources to do that much long. Atlantis needed a CO and they needed their teams back in the field gathering intel on the Replicators and the Wraith. He couldn't deprive them of those two things much longer and assure the safety and viability of the project. Sooner, rather than later, he'd have to declare Sam MIA and move on.

At least have the project move on.

As for himself….

Yeah.

He looked at the duffle that wasn't his and the room that wasn't his.

Screw it.

What the hell did it matter now, anyway?

He grabbed the bag off the chair and a few minutes later found himself standing in Sam's quarters, the door hissing quietly shut behind him.

It wasn't home, but it was the next best thing to it.

It was where Sam lived. Where she slept. Where she sent him emails. Where she missed him most, when the hectic pace of each day slowed to an Atlantean night. At least that's what she'd told him the last time—the only time—she'd come home. Lying awake, wrapped in his arms, trying to readjust for that one blessed week to an earth schedule after having barely gotten used to the Atlantis one. Days were frenetic; dozens of crises, great and small, that kept her constantly on her toes and her mind occupied; but at night, she'd confessed…at night the loneliness got to her, far worse than it ever had before.

He hadn't said anything, there in the dark. He never knew what to say, what the right words would be. He'd considered making a joke, but there had been something in her voice that had stopped him short. And besides, he'd felt the same way. Home had been something to be avoided with her gone. It was an empty place, even emptier for the two months they had gotten to spend together there uninterrupted by the cares of the universe. And now two more months had passed since that glorious week. Half a year since their wedding and he felt he'd hardly seen her.

Great freakin' cosmic scale. What you get, you've got to give up.

He tossed the bag onto the floor in the corner and dropped onto the bed. The pillow smelled vaguely of Sam's shampoo. Yeah. This was better. At least there was something of her here.

And, surprise. More pictures. Two more pictures, to be precise. One from their wedding and one from their honeymoon.

So this was where she kept them. Not in her office but on the table next to her bed.

Rolling on his side he eyed the first one. Now that had been a surprise. Sam showing up at their wedding in dress blues. Not quite what he'd expected, he had to admit, but when she had explained why, he understood. And hey, no point in tempting fate. If clothing choices were all it took to turn tragedy to happiness, then he could certainly live with his bride looking like she stepped out of an Air Force recruiting poster. If only her little bit of superstition had worked.

The second photo was from Hawaii. It was such a tourist shot. Him in a ridiculously loud tropical shirt, Sam in a halter top and sarong, a couple of pineapple drinks on the table in front of them. But instead of the big, sappy grin the photographer had asked for, they had kissed. The camera had caught Sam's hand holding Jack's face in just the right way so that the shiny new wedding ring on her finger reflected the light from the luau fire, creating a little starburst flare. Since it was a digital shot, the guy with the camera had offered to take another, thinking the flare a distraction; but they'd liked this one, and the focus on the ring had seemed somehow appropriate.

Sam's ring. Where was it?

He knew she never wore it on duty, so she wouldn't have had it with her on this mission.

The bedside table had no drawer, so it wasn't there. He got up and began to search for it—dresser, bathroom, closet. Nothing. Finally he opened a small wooden box set decoratively on the low side table next to the chair. Inside he found a set of dogtags—not real ones, he realized after a few seconds, remembering. He'd bought these for her at the Air and Space Museum in DC before she'd left for Atlantis.

"Just so you won't forget me," he'd told her, teasing.

Fingering them, he read what he'd had engraved on them:

_O'Neill, Samantha_

_Full Bird Colonel, USAF_

_Atlantis, DC, Fishing…._

And hanging from them was her wedding ring.

With this ring…. 

He remembered the look on her face when he'd slid it on her finger. Her eyes—_those_ eyes—the ones he'd gotten lost in eleven years ago and had never found his way out of—had been brimming with tears. But for once, after all the times those tears had been for pain or loss or grief, these were for joy. The sight of them, of her, standing there next to him, taking his ring—hell, taking him, the unworthy SOB he was—had nearly tripped him up. The words had caught in his throat that had suddenly gone tight and uncooperative. He'd had to clear it. Start over. She'd smiled at him. Understanding. And then the ring was on her finger.

_I now pronounce you…._

He hadn't even heard the rest of it. And if anyone had been expecting a chaste little kiss as a matter of ceremony, well….

The rigid uniform skirt had made it more of a challenge, but he'd managed to sweep her over backward, taking her completely by surprise. The kiss had lasted a long time. A very long time. Finally he'd felt a tapping on his shoulder. Straightening up and setting Sam on her feet he'd raised a questioning eyebrow at Daniel, who was the tapper.

_Um. Just wanted to let you know…the rest of us are still here._

Mitchell had started the applause after that. Not that there were many there. They'd tried to keep it as close to family as possible. Which meant SG1. And Cassie. And George Hammond, looking relaxed and radiant in his retirement.

Sam had blushed furiously. Nearly as red as when they'd started down the aisle and he'd made some smart-ass remark that had taken her completely off guard. Something he'd made good on too. Later.

He found himself smiling, staring at the ring. It was still nearly as shiny as in the picture. She'd gotten too little chance to wear it.

The smile faded.

He couldn't leave it here. He wouldn't leave it here.

He slid the chain over his neck and tucked it under his shirt. It made a soft _ting_ as it hit his own tags and he could feel the extra weight of the ring. She'd worn his old academy ring this way once, when he'd first asked her to marry him. Before he could get her a proper ring, which had almost come too late, thanks to the damned Ori.

I want you to know…I don't regret a thing. Not a single thing…I just wish we'd had more time..

Yeah.

Me too.

Jack made his way back to the bed and lay down again, looking one more time at the picture from Kauai.

What he wouldn't give….

"No regrets. Right Sam?" he said aloud to the picture.

Maybe if he told it to himself often enough, he'd start to believe it.

Covering his eyes with his hand, he let out a half-shudder, half-sigh.

Twenty-four more hours. That's all the time he could give it. Hell, he'd look for her 'til the end of time if he could. But that wasn't possible.

Twenty-four hours. Then they'd declare her MIA.

He'd have to call Cassie then. And Mark. Get a message off to Teal'c. He'd want to know.

An odd list of tasks started to form in his mind. Logistical stuff he'd need to do when he got back. It kept him…focused.

He couldn't hope anymore. The twenty-four hours was just to be sure. But he knew. Had known. Almost from the start.

If there had been anyway for Sam to get back, she would have by now.

It was as simple as that.

She was gone.

And he was alone.

Again.

Probably just as he deserved to be. Stupid son of a bitch that he was.


	4. Act 3

**ACT 3**

Maybe it had been the look on the general's face. The way his shoulders drooped ever so slightly as he'd turned his back to them after making the announcement. Maybe it was the absolute sadness that radiated off the man. Sheppard wasn't sure. What he did know, at that moment, was that no matter what the general said, no matter what order he'd just handed down, he, John Sheppard, was going to disobey it. In spite of the fact that he'd come to believe what Ronan had said from the very beginning, he couldn't give up on Colonel Carter just yet. Not for her sake; and most certainly not for the sake of the man who had just officially declared her MIA and turned temporary command of Atlantis back over to him. Again.

If it hadn't been under the worse possible scenarios both times it might have been humorous, the way Atlantis kept bouncing back to him like a ball on the end of a string. Last time had been when Elizabeth…damn, he wasn't going to go there. It still hurt like hell. And he missed her, more than he'd ever thought possible. When Colonel Carter had arrived and taken over, it had been like rubbing salt in a wound. He'd done his duty, been professional, showed her the military courtesy she deserved, but he'd resented every moment of it. Not that it was her fault, but she was a handy mental whipping boy for his anger at the whole business, beginning with his own guilt over having supported the surgical strike against the replicators in the first place. That was the first domino to fall in this ever accelerating cascade of fiascos that had stranded the city in the middle of nowhere, brought Carter and the cavalry out to their rescue and set in motion everything that had happened since.

But he'd never wished her any ill. Not really. And she'd grown on him as his CO. Not…not that she'd ever replace Elizabeth, but she did bring a different set of skills to the job. And there was a certain satisfaction in seeing her go head to head with Rodney that had always left him feeling smugly pleased, especially when McKay came out of her office muttering and flustered. Nothing ever felt quite as good as seeing Rodney taken down a peg or two, and Sam Carter was the only one who could do it with grace.

Still, he'd have given just about anything to have Elizabeth back; a wish he'd made a dozen times if he'd made it once. And now Carter was gone. Not exactly what he'd had in mind, which made him recollect the old chestnut about being careful what you wish for. This one he'd trade in in a heartbeat. And as fervently as he'd wished for Elizabeth back, he now felt himself just as fervently wishing for Carter back.

It would have eased his guilty conscience. And it would have lifted the horrible burden off the shoulders of one of the few men he still admired.

So he knew he'd disobey the order to stand down. There were still at least two dozen planets that met their search parameters which they hadn't gotten to explore, and he was sure with a little prompting Rodney could broaden the scope of the model and come up with another dozen or two on top of that.

He couldn't take anything away from their current missions, and he wouldn't jeopardize the safety of Atlantis and it's people. But there wasn't any reason why at least one team a day couldn't check out one of those sites. There was always the possibility that where Carter had been bumped to didn't have a DHD and that was the only thing that was keeping her from dialing home. It was an ever increasingly remote possibility, but still…. It was a theory. And one he intended to pursue. General O'Neill's orders not withstanding.

So, he probably would piss off the general at least one more time. But for the right reasons, this time. And with any luck, with the right outcome as well.

o-o-o-o

Sam emerged from the tent and blinked in the bright light. Now that the leaves were changing colors the sunlight seemed especially intense, reflecting off the many yellows and oranges that surrounded their encampment. The days were warm but the nights were cool, and she had been especially glad of her heavy blanket this morning when the first frost had come.

At least Arisha said it was the first frost they'd had so far. Time to begin preparation, she'd told Sam. Twenty-one days from the first frost was when they began their journey to the warmer climate. Sam had no idea how to comprehend the distance described by Arisha, but if it involved moving to an entirely different climate, then the distance had to be significant. Arisha had said that they would journey for five weeks. At a pace of about fifteen miles a day, conservatively, for about thirty-five days, Sam calculated that they would be covering over five hundred miles. Enough, she figured, for a moderately dramatic shift in the climate, possibly on the order of about a forty or fifty degree difference, depending on the size of the planet, the tilt of it's axis and the nature of it's orbit around it's sun.

How she knew all this, she wasn't sure. The knowledge was just there. The oddest things would bring it forth—a tune Arisha hummed made her think of complex mathematical equations; the plants they gathered for medicine had her seeing formulas for compounds of different elements joined together; a broken receiver they used for communications came apart in her hands as if she had built the thing herself and she had fixed it in no time, not even half-understanding how.

Arisha was her constant companion. Something made her want to say "guard". The girl was watchful, but not bothersome. She did her chores and her duties and Sam helped as best she could, her arm with its cast in a sling around her neck. The bruise on her forehead was a lovely shade of purplish green, with splotches of yellow thrown in for good measure, and she was glad there was only one very small mirror in the tent, which she tended to avoid when at all possible. It was like looking at a stranger, and it gave her the most unsettled feeling. Every so often a horrible headache would overcome her and Zetra would insist she return to her bed. But other than that, she had been free to come and go…provided her escort came too.

And she was even getting used to the stares. At first she thought it was because she was a stranger. But Arisha had made a point of telling her that strangers were always welcomed by the sisterhood. In the towns and cities where they were sent to care for the sick, all who came to them were strangers. Tending them was their mission. Rarely did they get any in the encampment, but it was not altogether out of the ordinary. Sam's thought that it might have been her injuries was dismissed by the same argument. If these women's purpose was to care for the ill and wounded, then a bad bruise and a broken arm should not have been so stare-worthy. So what they found to gawk at, she could not figure out. She'd tried to ask Arisha, but the girl was adept at changing topics, and she never got a straight answer. And for some reason, that bothered her more than the stares did.

The only thing she had been denied had been her request to return to where they had found her. Apparently it was some distance away and the needs of the encampment, now that preparations for moving had begun, took precedent. Not even Arisha could be freed up to go with her—for which, judging by the look on Arisha's face, the girl was eternally grateful. Sam had just felt that if perhaps she could see the place it might further jog her memory and help her understand what exactly had happened to her.

Things were coming back to her. Bits and pieces. A flash of a face. A tidbit of conversation. An image of something that held meaning for her. But she could put no names to the faces, no context to the conversation and no significance to the images she saw. It was as if someone had taken scissors to her life and cut it into little bits, expecting her to reassemble it from nanomoments. It was impossible. She needed help.

Like that dogtag.

Like the items they had brought her, when she had asked if there had been anything else they had found with her. Not that there was a lot, really. A gray jacket, that was part of a uniform, she could tell. A heavy vest, in which she found an assortment of items she knew were for survival. Two weapons: a handgun, that she knew was called a Beretta, and a sheathed knife. And a radio. It hissed when she turned it on, and although she flipped through many different frequencies, nothing more than static came through. She knew what the items were, and she knew they were hers—she recognized them. But why she had them, when or where she'd gotten them, she had no idea.

The only thing missing, according to Zetra, were the rest of her clothes. They had been torn and bloody and needed to be cut off of her, so they had burned them. Sam had a faint memory of what they looked like. And that they'd needed to be cut off of her, she could understand why, if the soreness she felt in every muscle of her body was an indication of the condition they'd found her in. She hadn't felt this beaten and bruised since the Kull warrior had chased her half-way across the Alpha Site.

Sam stopped cold. She remembered that. Running. Her leg hurting. Hiding. Terrified. Pursued by the relentless and unstoppable black-suited drone. Thinking she'd killed it, only to watch it rise like some foul phoenix from the dust of it's own grave. Knowing she was going to die. Waiting for that moment.

But it didn't happen. Why? What happened next? It was like a movie that ended just before the final scene. Sam groaned in frustration. She had been close—so close! It had nearly come back to her. But now it was gone.

Kull warrior.

Well, it was something new to add to her list.

And the fact that she had been running from something.

Maybe she was still running. Maybe that was why she didn't remember. Maybe she didn't want to.

"Are you all right?"

The mystical Arisha appeared at her side, a frown of concern on her young forehead. Sam liked her, even if she knew the feelings weren't wholeheartedly returned.

"Just…tired, all of a sudden."

"Come back to the tent and rest. Zetra says it is too soon for you to be walking as much as you do. You must give yourself time to heal."

"It's just a broken arm," Sam said, dismissively.

"I think it's your…" the girl stopped suddenly, as if she'd been cut off. She swallowed and Sam could see her reforming her thoughts. "I'm sure she's just concerned about your other injuries. I will help you back."

At least Arisha was no longer afraid to touch her. She seemed to have gotten the okay from Zetra for this, and although the older woman herself still seemed hesitant, Arisha had quickly gotten over whatever it was about Sam that made her repugnant. She still had no idea what it was.

Placing Sam's good arm over her shoulder, she took some of Sam's weight, and together they worked their way back to the tent. Compared to the bright afternoon, the inside was dark and difficult to see in until her eyes adjusted. In her absence someone had brought in new linen for her bed and it was stacked neatly on the covers.

"Let me give you clean bedding," offered Arisha, stripping away the blanket that lay on top. She stopped cold for a moment, staring at the sheets beneath, and then, as if remembering herself, swept down and bundled them up, carrying them out of the tent and away toward the wash.

But Sam had seen.

The sheets were soaked in blood. Blood that hadn't come from either her arm or her head. Blood that hadn't come from a wound—at least not a wound she was aware of. She ached all over, but she knew her body well enough to know there were no deep gashes, no gaping cuts on her that could have left so bad a stain behind.

Not for the first time she realized they were hiding something from her. This time she was going to get answers. If Arisha would not talk, then she would point-blank ask Zetra, next time she came. And if she could not get Zetra to answer her questions, then she would go to Malana. And she was fairly certain Malana would have no compunctions about telling her exactly what she wanted to know.

o-o-o-o

"Head wounds bleed very badly. The amount of blood is often disproportional to the severity of the wound itself. You had a very bad gash, probably from hitting the standing stone when you fell."

Sam gave Zetra a mirthless half-smile and shook her head.

"I don't believe you."

Zetra cocked her head and met her look for look.

"You doubt the evidence of your own eyes? I can get you the mirror, if you like."

"I've had head wounds before. And yeah, they do bleed a lot. But not like that."

Zetra studied her for a moment, and Sam could tell the woman was debating with herself. Or maybe assessing Sam and her ability to handle the truth. In either case, after a long pause she seemed to come to some decision.

"Very well. It is best you know anyway. And since you have not asked, or made mention of it, either you did not know or it is one of the memories you have lost." She took a deep breath and leaned slightly forward, as if to take Sam by the hand. At the last moment, though she seemed to think better of it and simply folded her own hands together. "You were with child when you were injured. Whatever happened to you, it must have injured the child as well. You were already bleeding when we found you. There was nothing we could do."

Sam stared at the woman, barely comprehending. At first, bizarrely, she thought Zetra meant she had had a child with her when they found her, but as the woman's words sank in, their meaning hit her full force.

"Pregnant?" It came out a half-whisper.

Zetra nodded.

"So it would seem. You do not remember?"

Dazed, Sam shook her head slightly.

Zetra gave a small shrug.

"It is possible you did not know. I do not think you had quite reached quickening. Maybe three months. Maybe less. It is hard to say."

Sam found she was trembling. She clasped her hands together to try to stop the shaking, but it would not stop. A powerful loss overwhelmed her; an ache for something which, until a few moments ago, she had never even known existed.

"I am sorry."

She looked up into Zetra's eyes, and for the first time saw true sympathy there. Sam couldn't help herself. A small sob escaped.

"Yeah," she managed, in a voice she knew was none too steady. "Me too."

Zetra stood to leave. Something occurred to Sam.

"Is this why Malana hates me?"

Zetra's head indicated no.

"Malana does not hate you. And the feelings she does have, have nothing to do with this."

"Then why?" Sam pleaded, trying to keep her voice steady, but failing.

The sympathy was back in Zetra's eyes.

"I think you have learned enough this afternoon. Another time I will explain it."

Sam let her go this time. A tear escaped from one eye and she wiped it angrily away. She would not cry. She didn't know how or why, but she did know that crying was not something she indulged in very often. And this would not be one of those times.

Still. She couldn't make her mind let go of what Zetra had just told her.

Pregnant.

Questions crowded her thoughts, demanding answers.

She had none.

She studied her hands. Married. Where she came from married people wore wedding rings. But her hands were bare. Not that that meant anything. If she had been beaten, it was possible she had been robbed. Still, when she studied her fingers she showed no evidence that they were missing anything.

Unmarried then. Consensual or forced? She hugged herself, trying to keep the trembling under control. Maybe her memory loss was tied to this. Maybe she couldn't remember because she didn't want to remember.

The thought chilled her.

But what if it was true?

It might explain a lot.

It might explain everything.

It was a horrifying possibility.

The air in the tent seemed thick and nauseating. If this was her past, then maybe she should leave it buried, stop trying to ferret out the memories, trying to sort through the images.

Maybe it was best this way.

Sam lay back down on the cot and pulled the blanket up tightly around her. But she was restless. Something wasn't right about this line of thinking. She pulled her left hand out from beneath the covers and stared at it. There _should_ be a ring there. She could see an image of it. Almost a picture. The ring flashed in the light, bright gold reflecting flame. And the hand…her hand…was holding a face. A man's face. A face she knew she loved.

Just as she knew she would have loved the child that was never to be. Because it was his child.

If only she could remember who he was.

o-o-o-o

He had taken the longest route home he could. If he could have hitched a ride back on the Daedelus he would have. It would have added a few more days to his journey. But Caldwell was staying put for the time-being and he had no excuse for not taking the intergalactic gate and finding himself deposited in full view of Hank Landry in the gate room of the SGC.

Hank had hustled him out of there quickly. Even so, he had still caught the sympathetic murmurs of the staff in his wake. News traveled fast. Especially bad news. There was an funereal air about the whole facility as Hank walked him to the VIP quarters where he got to spend yet another wonderful, sleepless night before heading back to DC in the morning.

Jack paid the cab driver and watched the guy back out of the driveway, making sure he didn't run over Sam's azaleas. He'd never taken her for the gardening type. She had confessed once that she did indeed talk to her houseplants but somehow that was different than get-in-the-dirt, muck-in-the-mulch gardening. He always imagined her hands more at home covered by the grease of her motorcycle than the dirt of her back yard. But when they'd bought this house the first thing she'd done was to head to the local nursery and pick out a half dozen bright pink azaleas to plant at the end of the driveway. It had taken a while, but he finally got her to tell him why: they'd been her mother's favorite flower. No matter how many times they'd moved when she was a child, her mother had planted an azalea bush. For Sam, it meant home.

It was painful to look at them now, so he turned away and walked to the door. Which was ajar.

Somehow he didn't think it was the neighbor stopping by to feed the dog.

Especially since they didn't have a dog.

Instinctively he reached for a gun that wasn't there. Crap. Stupid commercial flight.

Flattening himself against the outside wall, he reached over and gently pushed the door open wide enough for him to fit his body through. Edging around the corner he looked cautiously into the dim entryway but saw nothing. Maybe it had been one of the neighbors, stopped by to check on the house, and left the door unlocked. He knew they'd given one of them a key. He just couldn't remember which one.

A clattering from the kitchen pretty much killed that idea. Jack looked around for something heavy to wield. The fireplace poker was a good fifteen feet away and he knew from experience that half the wide-planked floors in the living room squeaked underfoot. He may as well announce his arrival with a trumpet. The only thing that was nearby was a vase on the entryway table. It was certainly a cliché, but it would have to do. He picked it up, hefted it, and gauged exactly how hard he'd have to swing for it to do any damage to the intruder. It was going to take quite a swing.

It was then that Daniel appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand. He froze at the sight of Jack, standing there with the stupid vase upside down in both hands. The two of them stared at one another.

"Daniel…."

"Jack…."

They both looked at the vase. Jack set it back down on the table.

"Making yourself at home?"

Daniel took a sip of the coffee.

"Mmm," he replied, swallowing. "Hope you don't mind."

"How'd you…?"

"Yeah…I thought we talked about this once. You know…about locking your door?"

Jack turned and looked. Sure enough, the lock was undamaged.

"I coulda sworn…." he began, but Daniel cut him off.

"Actually, you did this time. It's just…well, Sam had told me where you kept the key hidden. So I let myself in."

Jack stiffened at the mention of Sam's name. Like he didn't know why Daniel was here.

"Look, Daniel…."

"Jack…I know what you're going to say. But I'm not leaving. Not yet, anyway."

Jack gave him a cold, hard stare. He never had been able to really intimidate Daniel. Even less so, these past few years. Fine. Maybe if he ignored him he would give up and go away. Because he really, really, _really_ didn't want to talk to anyone right now. And especially not Daniel.

"Fine. Whatever. Make yourself at home. You know where the spare room is. I'm going to bed."

Daniel checked his watch.

"Uh, Jack…it's three in the afternoon."

"Yeah, well it's about 10 at night on Atlantis and my body just doesn't switch time zones as fast as it used to. So, good night. Or good afternoon. Or whatever." He headed for the stairs, hoping Daniel would take the hint.

He didn't.

"Jack. You have to talk about this."

Jack whirled on his friend, one foot on the first step.

"No, Daniel. I don't."

"Yes, Jack, you do. Trust me."

Jack studied Daniel's face and tried to ignore the reflection of himself in the man's glasses. If he only looked half as bad as what he could see, then he looked like hell. And frankly, now that he got a good look at Daniel, the guy didn't look much better. He had that pinched Daniel look to him that he got when he'd been wrestling with some inner demon for too long.

He'd almost forgotten. Sam's death wasn't his loss alone.

He flinched as the word "death" snuck its way into his consciousness. He'd never actually thought it before; and certainly never said it aloud. When he did, it would be so…final.

And here was Daniel, damn him, come to make sure he could say it—would say it, because, he knew, Daniel would force him to come to grips with this instead of letting him hide upstairs by himself, wondering how many lite beers a guy had to drink in order to actually pass out.

Then it dawned on him.

"She put you up to this," he said, accusingly. "She told you to come here if anything ever happened…."

Daniel's gaze dropped to the floor and he shifted uneasily on one foot. Oh yeah. That was it. He'd hit the nail on the proverbial head. Sam had set this up, long before she'd ever left for Pegasus. Maybe even longer ago than that. She knew him too well. Knew he'd try to hide, to climb into a hole and pull it in after himself. Knew he'd leave his phone unanswered, his doorbell unheeded, his pager turned off.

So she'd sent Daniel.

Jack almost laughed.

And then he almost cried.

Which Daniel must have seen, because he reached over and, putting his hand on Jack's shoulder, deliberately guided him off the step and over to the living room to the sofa in front of the fireplace.

Jack couldn't believe he was allowing himself to be led around like this; but at the moment, any will he had to protest or fight back simply wasn't there. So he sat on the sofa and stared at the cold hearth and prepared to let Daniel talk. He'd tuned out the best of them at the Pentagon. He could tune out Daniel Jackson.

Except Daniel wasn't talking.

He was just sitting there, staring at the same patch of rug on the floor in front of him. Saying nothing.

After several minutes, Jack decided he'd had enough

"Well. As illuminating as this is…."

Daniel looked up, that funny distracted look on his face. Almost as though he'd forgotten Jack was there.

"What? Oh…sorry. I was just…you know…thinking."

"Ah," replied Jack. "I tried that once. Didn't much care for it."

That got Daniel's attention.

"Jack…"

"Daniel…you know, I think we've done this already. So if you don't mind, I'm going to go upstairs now."

"We need to talk. You need to talk."

"No. I. Don't."

"If Sam were here you'd talk to her."

"If Sam were here I wouldn't need to talk to her…cuz I'd be, well…talking to her."

He knew there was logic to that statement…somehow. He just wasn't going to puzzle it out.

Apparently neither was Daniel. He just shook his head distractedly and let it pass.

"She knew you'd be like this. That's why she made me promise to come."

So he had been right. He knew her so well. Just like she knew him.

"Look, Daniel…I appreciate it. Really, I do. And you've done your duty. You fulfilled your promise. Just…go away. Please."

God he was tired. Inside, outside, brainwise, bodywise…any way a man could be tired, he was. He just wanted to go upstairs. And so help him, if Daniel didn't let him…well, he wouldn't be responsible for what happened.

Daniel seemed to accept this.

"Okay. Fine. Go get some rest, Jack. But I'm not leaving."

Or not.

"Daniel…." he said threateningly. The man next to him held up a hand.

"Don't…don't be mad, Jack. But I did make a promise. And I swore I wouldn't leave you alone until you'd had a chance to deal with this. I'll just…uh…hang out here until you're ready to talk, and I'll take you up on the offer for the guestroom, if that's okay."

Jack shrugged. At least he got a reprieve from Daniel's persistence. Maybe tomorrow he could actually get him out the door and back to Colorado Springs.

"Whatever," he replied, wearily. "Can I go to bed now?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Jack made it to the bottom of the stairs one more time before he heard Daniel clear his throat.

"And Jack?"

He paused and turned to look at his friend. He was standing now, his arms folded across his chest.

"About Sam…I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

For some reason Jack's ability to speak seemed to vanish at that particular moment, so he simply nodded, and turning, climbed up the steps. It was the most agonizing fifteen steps he'd ever made in his entire life.


	5. Act 4

**ACT 4**

In her dreams she knew who she was. The kaleidoscope of names and faces and voices all made sense. They fit together perfectly, like pieces in a puzzle, forming a whole and complete picture that was her life.

And he was always there. The man with the silvery hair and the impish grin that she knew, somehow, was just for her. He teased her. He challenged her. He irritated her. He charmed her. And most importantly of all, he loved her. And she loved him, and as long as she knew this, everything was alright.

Until she woke up, and it all shattered into a million different fragments, none of which made sense. Except that she still knew he loved her. Whoever he was. And she missed him so much it almost hurt to think about it.

Just as it hurt to think about the child she no longer carried.

"Zetra said you must walk some more today. That it is good for you now." Arisha had come into the tent with a pitcher of water and set it down on the small table by Sam's cot. "I am to help you wash, and then we will walk."

It had been two days since Zetra had told her the truth and Sam had only left the tent when she'd had to use the facilities. Outside she could hear the continued preparations for the Relocation, but she no longer wanted to help. She no longer wanted to do anything except lay on the cot, her eyes turned to the blank tent-side mourning a life she could not remember and a life she would never know. Somehow the two had become one grief, and she could not separate them. It was easier to lay there than to try.

"I don't think I feel up to it," Sam murmured. "Maybe tomorrow."

"That is what you said yesterday," Arisha admonished. "And Zetra has made it an order. You are to walk or it will be my fault."

Sam rolled over and looked at the girl, trying to decide if what she was saying was really true. There was something different about Arisha…and Sam realized it was because the girl was looking at her directly, not with her usual averted gaze. And there was actually a twinkle dancing in her eyes. Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Well, I don't want you to get into trouble," she replied, with a weariness that was only partially feigned.

"Good," answered Arisha. "Here. It is chilly outside. You will want this when we walk."

She picked up Sam's own jacket and handed it to her.

"Now…shall I help you wash, or can you do it yourself?"

Sam looked at the pitcher of water and at the teenager standing there, her hands on her hips, challenging her.

Somewhere a memory stirred. Another girl, another confrontation, that look of barely controlled teenage exasperation.

It slipped away.

Damn it. She had almost had it. She looked at Arisha again, but nothing new came.

"I think I can manage," she told her, rolling into a sitting position.

Nodding, and with an air of self-satisfaction, Arisha left.

About ten minutes later Sam found herself standing outside. The day was gray and overcast. A rain the night before had taken down many of the leaves from the trees and the whole compound seemed a place transformed. Things were being packed up. Tents were coming down, their skeleton frames all that remained. The women were moving about with a sense of purpose but not haste. There was work to do, but time to do it in.

Sam took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of damp leaves and decaying grass. The frost had killed the smaller, weaker plants and the rain had matted them down to the ground. Already they were starting to return to the soil where they would become the foundation for next years growth.

Sam felt like those plants. Whatever life she had before was gone. Whoever she had been before was slipping away. She could try to keep grasping at it and destroy herself with the effort, or she could let it die and begin a new life.

Very soon, she knew, she would have to decide. She could not go on as she had been, in this limbo. If she could not discover who she had been, then she had to become someone new.

"Would you be up for a longer walk today?" Arisha had come up beside her. "I have done my chores for the day and will take you back to the temple where you were found, if you feel up to it."

Sam looked around. She saw no sign of Zetra or Malana.

"I thought it was too far."

Arisha shrugged.

"It is far, but not too far."

"Are you…are we permitted?"

Arisha smiled conspiratorially, no longer the shy girl she had been for the first few days.

"Sometimes I have found that it is easier to apologize than to ask for permission."

Sam smiled slightly and nodded.

"I think I could manage the walk."

"Good. We'll go this way."

The path was difficult to see at first, but before long Sam could pick it out among the trees and the undergrowth. Arisha seemed to know exactly where she was going; she didn't hesitate when the path forked in two different directions and without even breaking stride chose the path that went right. Doubtless she knew these trails well if she accompanied Malana and Zetra and the others on their plant gathering expeditions.

After a while the trees thinned out and they emerged into a field tall with yellowing grass. Arisha paused for a moment while Sam caught up to her.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Actually, I'm feeling much better, thanks," Sam replied. And it was true. Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the exercise. Maybe it was the thought that finally she was going to return to where this nightmare had all started and possibly get some answers. Whatever the reason, both her mood and her stamina were improving the farther along they went.

"We still have a ways to go. Let me know if you need to rest."

Sam assured her she would, but privately she doubted if she'd need to. The pull of the temple ruins was very strong. The sooner she got there, the better off she knew she would be.

They walked through the tall grasses for nearly as long as they had walked through the woods. This time Sam did have difficulty seeing the path, but Arisha was sure of her way. Eventually the grasses gave way to a more scrubby landscape and large irregularly shaped boulders began to appear. The terrain also began to slope upward. Even though the day was cool, Sam began to sweat as she followed Arisha up the gradual incline. Perhaps she was not as physically ready for this as she had thought. But she wouldn't stop now. She couldn't.

Before long Sam noticed that the rocks had been placed as steps into the steep hillside. Most of them were broken to some degree, but they were still useable and made the ascent much easier. Above she could see their destination: tall monoliths of more rocks silhouetted against the overcast sky. The ruins of the old temple.

The stone steps hugged the hillside and spiraled up. Arisha slowed her pace allowing Sam to catch up and when Sam was finally right behind her again, she stopped and pointed.

"This is the entrance. Beyond that is the inner circle of standing stones, and in the center, the great ring. That is where you were found."

A huge archway towered in front of them. At least at one time it had been an archway. Large chunks of the arch were missing, but enough remained to identify it. And engraved on either pillar were symbols that Sam could not understand but were yet somehow familiar. She ran her hand over them as if touching them might suddenly make them comprehensible. They remained inscrutable.

"Show me," she said to Arisha. The girl hesitated a moment and then nodded, stepping through the crumbling arch and walking toward the larger inner set of stones.

"Tell me about the Altera," said Sam as she followed her. "Did they build this temple?"

"We believe so. Those who study our history have told us that these ruins are tens of thousands of years old. They go back much farther than our memories of such things."

"Your people have no memory of the Altera then?"

She saw Arisha shake her head.

"No. We have only the Book of Altera. It was written over five thousand years ago and is based upon what has been translated from these stones and other repositories we have found scattered about our world."

"What's in the book?"

"It is filled with words of wisdom and guidance. It has been the foundation of our society for every generation since. The Sisterhood of Altera was established based upon the writings of the book and the Brothers of Altera likewise."

"The Brothers of Alter? Who are they?"

For the first time in their whole journey, Sam thought she saw a look of doubt cross Arisha's face.

"They are those who interpret and uphold the law. It was early members of the Brothers who first translated the knowledge of the Altera and used it to establish our rules and our way of life. Those who join the Brothers have devoted their lives to the law in the same way those who join the Sisterhood have devoted their lives to healing and caring for the sick and the dying. It is what the Altera have directed us to do."

"How do you know that?" asked Sam, unsure as to why Arisha's remarks should make her feel so skeptical. "I mean, did they get that specific in their writings?"

"I…I am uncertain. Very few people are able to translate the words of the Altera. Only the Brothers are taught it. We depend upon their interpretation, I guess."

"So how do you know it's accurate?"

Arisha looked mildly uncomfortable, but Sam couldn't help herself. For some reason these questions kept coming into her mind.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Sam shrugged.

"I don't know…maybe because it gives the Brothers control over everything. If everyone could read the writing, then they wouldn't have the final word on what it said. Other people would be able to offer an opinion on the meaning. They'd lose their power."

"But the Brothers do not seek power. They only establish the law."

"My experience has been that the ones who make the laws _are_ the ones with the power, whether they admit to it or not."

Arisha stopped dead and looked at her.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

Sam realized what she had just said. It came from…where? She didn't know. What she did know, however, was that it was true.

"Part of me remembers that. Don't ask me how. I just do."

Arisha studied her a moment and then turned back to the walkway.

"We are almost there," she said, effectively closing that discussion.

The stones here were huge. Great slabs raised up on end, looming over Sam like giant solid shadows.

She thought she'd try a different tactic with Arisha.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

Arisha did not look at her.

"Doing what?"

"Helping me. Being nice to me. A few days ago you wouldn't even look me in the eye, let alone help me come back here. Why now?"

Arisha stopped again and turned to Sam. She had an odd expression on her face, a look of a wisdom beyond her years that reminded Sam again of that other girl she thought she knew.

"Because you're not at all like I thought you'd be."

That puzzled Sam. She frowned.

"How did you think I would be?" she asked.

"Evil," said a voice from her left. Sam whirled and saw Zetra step out of the shadow of the nearest stone, her hands clasped behind your back.

"She thought you would be evil," she repeated, coming to stand next to Arisha. The girl did not look surprised to see the woman and Sam had a sinking feeling that perhaps this whole journey had been a trap of some kind.

"Evil? Why?"

"Because that is what we have been taught. That anyone who looks as you do is to be hated and feared, and therefore destroyed long before they can inflict their evil ways upon our world."

Okay. This was not looking good. Sam backed away a little. She had an urge to reach for a weapon, but she had not brought any with her. It had been a small hike, for crying out loud.

"What does how I look have to do with anything?" she asked, glancing about to see if there was an easy exit in any direction. Her slinged arm would make her escape more difficult, but she would have to try, nonetheless.

"It is your eyes. They are blue," Zetra said simply.

"Blue?" replied Sam, uncertainly. "So…what's wrong with blue."

"The Book of Altera tells us that according to the writings on these stones, the people with the strange eyes are to be feared because they will ultimately bring destruction to our world. It calls upon us to rid the world of the strange-eyed ones so that we may know neither fear nor death at their hands," explained Zetra further. Except Sam didn't think it was really much of an explanation.

"And blue eyes are…strange?" asked Sam, still sizing up her escape route. Zetra inclined her head once.

"Our people have eyes the color of mud. Once in a rare while a child is born with blue eyes; and over the generations Castouts have become even more rare."

"Castouts?" repeated Sam.

"It is what we call those who have been cursed with blue eyes," spoke up Arisha. "Because that is what happens to them."

"They are…cast out?"

Zetra and Arisha exchanged a glance. An unspoken comment seemed to pass between them.

"They are brought here, where the blue water claims them."

Alarms began to ring in Sam's head. She took a step back. Injured arm or no, she would do whatever it took when they made their move.

"The blue water?" If she kept them talking she might improve her chances.

"From the great ring," explained Zetra. "The one which you were found near. Which was why, we assumed, you had been brought here, although we do not know how you have survived this long. Most Castouts are brought here as infants."

"You think I was brought here by…"

"…by the Brothers," supplied Zetra.

"By the Brothers," continued Sam. "To be…what?…executed?" Sam was incredulous. The whole scenario was unfathomably horrible.

"Not at first. We did not know you were a Castout until you regained consciousness. But then it began to make sense. Except, somehow, you must have escaped the blue water. It is the only explanation."

Sam gave a bitter laugh.

"So…what? You're going to try it again…make sure I'm really dead this time?"

Zetra and Arisha exchanged another look.

"No," Zetra said finally. "We…Arisha and I…have decided to help you try to remember who you are and where you come from, so that you may return there. You are not safe here, and if you remain, the Brothers may return for you."

Sam was leery. Sometimes help was offered a little too easily.

"Why would you do this—why would you go against everything your law says?" she asked, suspiciously, carefully watching the two women. Arisha looked uncomfortable and stared at the ground. But Zetra met her eyes.

"Because. As Arisha has said, you are not as we thought you would be. The Brothers have always taught that the Castouts, if they grew to adulthood, would be the personification of evil. That they would devour us in our sleep and cull our people like a wonkat culls the young offspring of our dobai herds. But unless I am gravely mistaken—and I do not think I am—there is nothing whatsoever that is evil about you. Whoever you are and however you have lived, you are in most ways no different than us. And so I have begun to question the teaching of the Brothers in this regard. I will not turn you over to them. I cannot."

Arisha looked up finally and nodded her agreement. Sam looked at the two of them, weighing how much of what Zetra had said she was willing to believe. But there was genuine sincerity in her face, and in Arisha's face as well. Sam allowed herself to stand down slightly. Perhaps they were no threat to her after all.

"I still want to see where I was found," she told them, deciding to reserve her final judgment for now. She wanted to see what they had planned next. Zetra pointed between the two nearest standing stones that were crossed by a large stone lintel.

"We will show you, if you still wish to trust us. I give you my word, Samantha Carter. We have not brought you here for any reason other than to help you."

At this point there was little else to do but go forward. The answers, whatever they were, lay ahead, not behind. Sam gave a curt nod and Zetra and Arisha began walking in the direction they had pointed. Taking a deep breath and preparing herself for whatever awaited her there, Sam followed.

o-o-o-o

Half-asleep the sound of a running shower brought a half-smile to Jack's face. Sam had beaten him to the hot water again. She didn't skimp on showers either, when she had the time. Maybe he'd get in there and share a little of the heat with her before the tank emptied out and he was left with nothing but the cold tap. Maybe that wasn't all he'd share, while he was in there. Or else maybe a cold shower would do him some good after all.

The half-smile broadened at the thought.

Then he woke up. All the way up.

The running water wasn't coming from the master bath; it was the guest bath down the hall.

Daniel. His unwanted houseguest.

The guy really couldn't take a hint. Well, actually, he could. He just chose to ignore the hint because he was…well, he was Daniel. And he was on mission. And Daniel would see most missions through to their bitter end.

Jack threw his arm over his eyes and squeezed them shut. For a few glorious moments he had thought it was Sam. If only for an instant, everything that had happened over the past ten days hadn't. She was home. She was his. Life was good.

He couldn't imagine life ever being good again.

Not without her. Not now.

The water shut off down the hall and he heard the low hum of Daniel's razor. Maybe if he stayed in here Daniel would give up and go away.

Not likely.

He'd just have to face him. Let him do whatever it was he had promised Sam he would do and then maybe he would leave. Go away. Scram. Vamoose.

A guy could hope.

o-o-o-o

"I, uh, didn't notice any Fruit Loops in your cupboard," said Daniel as he poured a glass of orange juice and sat down at the table across from Jack. "In fact, I didn't notice much food at all. There was a box of Pop-Tarts, but I think they expired about a month ago."

"Funny," replied Jack as he reached for the carton of juice and poured himself a glass. "Shopping hasn't been a real high priority these past few weeks."

"No. I guess not."

Jack let the silence hang between them. He still held out hope that maybe Daniel would give up and go away. But it was a very slim hope.

"So…is there anything I can do to help?" Daniel asked finally, breaking the awkwardness. "I mean, if you need groceries, or some errands or…."

Jack interrupted.

"Daniel…just…just do whatever it is you came here to do and get it over with, okay? And if you really want to help, you can get the hell out of here."

Daniel settled the glasses more comfortably on his nose and stared balefully at Jack. God, he hated that look. He hated being the recipient of that look. It had pity written all over it.

"I came here to listen to you, Jack. Because Sam told me to. But I can't listen if you don't talk."

"Oh for God's sake, Daniel, haven't you figured it out by now? I don't want to talk! The talking thing…it's not what I do! It's not how I deal with things."

"I know," replied Daniel quietly. "I remember."

Jack stared at him. Comprehending.

"You think I'm going to blow my brains out, don't you? Like last time."

Daniel's lips pursed and his eyebrows arched. A sure indicator that he was about to say something he didn't want to.

"Well, actually…now that you mention it…yes."

A deep sigh escaped from Jack as he sank into the kitchen chair.

"Is that what she thought too? That if something happened to her I'd try to kill myself?"

Daniel shook his head.

"No—I mean, I don't know—I don't think so. She never said anything about it. She was just worried that you'd blame yourself in some way, go to that deep place inside of you that you retreat to when you're in pain. Like when I died—ascended—she said."

"Oh. That."

"Yeah," said Daniel, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "That. But Sam wasn't with you on Abydos the first time, so I don't think she ever really understood what you were like then. I was. And I do. And I'm not going to stand by and let you go through that again. Not if I can help it."

Jack was silent. Those feelings on Abydos were a long time ago. And he thought he'd left them there. Until he'd had to kill Sam with a double zat in order to destroy the entity that had possessed her. If she had died then, at his hand…but she hadn't. And the guilt eventually went away, and he was okay.

So he knew what those feelings were like. And although he ached over Sam, though he felt like a part of him had been amputated and that the sun would never shine and the world would never have any beauty and his heart would never weigh less than a ton again, _those_ feelings weren't there. And he didn't think they ever would be, no matter how long the nights or how empty the days.

That had been her gift to him. That as absolutely unworthy as he felt, she had loved him, in spite of it. And if she had found something in him worthy of her love, then he wasn't about to go throwing that love away by throwing his life away. He owed her that at the very least.

"You can stop worrying, Daniel. I have no intention of killing myself," he finally said, a bit wearily.

"Yeah…like I said. I was there on Abydos, Jack."

Jack shook his head.

"This is completely different. I'm completely different. I swear to you Daniel. I'll be okay."

He could see Daniel was sizing him up, weighing his words, trying to tell if he were bluffing or not. After what seemed like a good long while his friend gave his head a nod and set the empty orange juice glass down on the table.

"Fine, then. I guess my work here is done."

He pushed the chair back and stood up, side stepping the table on his way toward the door to the hall.

"How're you doing?" Jack asked suddenly. Daniel had to be hurting too. He and Sam had been thick as thieves at times. In its own way, this had to be as hard for Daniel as it was for him. He wished he hadn't just realized that.

When Daniel stopped cold and cleared his throat nervously, Jack knew he was right.

"I'll miss her," he said plainly, looking directly at Jack. "I'll miss her a lot. She was…." he struggled to find a voice that didn't have a quaver in it. "She was smart and beautiful and funny and brave…and she was my friend."

"She loved you a lot, Daniel," Jack told him. "Like a brother."

Daniel was suddenly studying the tile floor very intently.

"I never had any brothers or sisters. and when my parents were killed…. well, family has never been my strongest suite." He gave a sad smile. "That's why you and Teal'c and Sam…."

He couldn't finish and Jack did him the courtesy of finding his glass of orange juice particularly fascinating at that moment. Finally Daniel recovered.

"Anyway…," he said at last.

"Yeah," Jack answered, still gazing intently at the bits of pulp on the rim of the glass.

"I'll just get my stuff and head back. You'll let me know what…."

"You'll be the first. Well. Maybe the second. I have to tell Cassie."

"Yeah. I…I understand."

He was almost to the front door when Jack called after him.

"Daniel…."

He was back in the kitchen in a heartbeat. Jack finally looked up from the glass.

"Thanks."

A ghost of a smile passed over Daniel's lips.

"Any time," he replied and then was gone.

Jack sat contemplating the orange juice glass for several more minutes, refusing to acknowledge how absolutely silent the house was now that Daniel was gone.

Finally he reached for the phone and began to call Cassie's number.

o-o-o-o

"Where's Colonel Sheppard?"

At the sound of his name Sheppard turned around and saw Major Lorne taking the gateroom stairs two at a time. There was a flash as the wormhole closed behind the last of his team to come through.

"Whatcha got?" asked Sheppard, hurrying over. Lorne's excitement was palpable. He'd been leading the wildcard team that was searching for Carter, and knowing Lorne, he wouldn't be acting this way if he hadn't found something important.

"Our first try today…we sent a MALP through," Lorne was breathing hard and talking fast. "No DHD. So we re-dialed…took a portable DHD with us to manually dial back so we could retrieve the MALP. There were a bunch of ruins. And look what we found in the bushes near by."

He held out his hand and in it was a GDO. The label affixed to the back read: "Carter".

Sheppard found he'd been holding his breath. He let it out.

"Any sign…." he wasn't sure where to go next. No DHD would certainly explain why she hadn't simply dialed home. But then a whole lot of other things could explain it as well. He wasn't going start celebrating yet.

Lorne was shaking his head.

"No. We tried reaching her on the radio, but there was no response. There was…." he hesitated, and took a big gulp.

"There was what?"

The Major's face was not a happy one.

"There are a lot of these huge stones right around the gate. Part of some ruins, maybe…I don't know. It reminds me of Stonehenge. Anyway…we found one that had stains on it and on the ground around it. I couldn't swear for sure, but we all pretty much agreed it looked like dried blood. And there was a lot of it."

Sheppard had already steeled himself when Lorne had hesitated the first time. He decided holding off on the celebration had been a good thing after all.

"But no body?"

Lorne shook his head.

"No body. At least not that we could see. Which doesn't mean…."

"I know," John cut him off. He turned Carter's GDO over in his hand. At least they'd found where she had gone. Or at least where part of her had gone. He didn't even want to think of the ramifications of that. Still. The entire Pegasus galaxy had now been narrowed down to a single planet. And compared to a galaxy, a planet was a piece of cake.

"I want a plan for a full search and rescue, including a contingency if we encounter hostiles on the planet," he decided. "Take Teyla, Ronan and McKay with you."

Lorne shook his head.

"It's going to be dark there inside of two hours. I don't think we should send our people in until it's morning there."

Damn. Another delay. But Lorne was right. It was the most prudent thing to do.

"Fine. Work on the plan. Be ready to go at first light. I'll contact the Daedelus and see if they can get there any sooner. At the very least they can help with the search. Colonel Carter should still have a subcutaneous transmitter."

Lorne nodded and then indicating that his team should follow him, headed off to stow their gear and get working.

Sheppard didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. Where there was uncertainty there was always hope. In a few hours they would know whether there was grounds for that hope or not. They would have their answer, one way or another. He considered dialing earth and reporting to the SGC so they could notify General O'Neill, but decided against it. There was really no point until they knew something for certain. And that wouldn't be…he checked his watch…oh yeah. Not for another twelve hours, at least.

John knew it was going to be twelve of the longest hours of his life.

o-o-o-o

Sam stared at the great stone ring and the first thing that came to her mind was: _there's no DHD._

She even said it aloud.

"What is a 'Dee-aich-dee"?" asked Zetra, who was standing to her right.

Sam turned to her.

"It's the Dial Home Device. It's what activates the Stargate and sends the wormhole to the desired address."

She could feel both women staring at her, even though she was only looking at Zetra. Only then did she realize what she had said. And what it meant.

"I…I remember it…." she said hesitantly, a slight grin growing on her face. "I remember what this is! We call it a Stargate. It's an alien device that demolecularizes something at this end, sends it through a wormhole to a stargate at another location and rematerializes it there. We use it to travel from planet to planet."

"You…you came _through_ the stone ring?" asked Zetra, incredulously.

Sam nodded vigorously.

"Yes! The DHD is used to turn the gate on, I suppose you could say, and tell it where to connect to. It creates an enormous blue wave that bursts out of the ring, but then it settles back into what we call an event horizon. It looks just like a giant puddle of blue water across the inside of the ring. But you can step through it, and a few seconds later, you're somewhere else. It was built by the Ancients—the Alt…" she hesitated a moment, things suddenly becoming very clear. "The Alterans," she said comprehendingly.

"You mean the Altera," corrected Arisha.

"They called themselves Aterans," Sam explained. "But I'm sure they are the same. Sometimes names get corrupted over time. At least that's what Daniel tells me."

"Daniel?" Zetra this time.

A warmth flooded through Sam, as if she were suddenly bathed in sunlight, even though the sky remained determinedly gray. It was all there. She remembered everything. Daniel. The Stargate. The SGC. Earth. Her father. Her friends. Her…Jack.

Oh God! Jack! How long had she been here? What must he be going through? She looked at her watch and suddenly all the data on it meant something. Two weeks. Fourteen days since she'd gone with John Sheppard and his team to try to persuade the Nedians to relocate through the gate. Ships had come. Replicator ships, firing at them. She'd sent everyone ahead, holding the gate open until Sheppard was through. And then she'd dived through herself.

How had she ended up here?

The only thing that came to mind was that the wormhole must have jumped. Probably it was hit by one of the blasts from the attacking ships. Just like the time it sent them to the Antarctic gate. No wonder no one had come searching for her. They'd have had no idea where to begin to look.

And without a DHD she had no way to get back.

The joy of remembering was dampened by her sudden understanding of her situation. She was stranded here. And back home Jack, she was sure, was told she was dead. Or at the very least, MIA. It didn't matter, she knew. For Jack they were one in the same.

Sam sank down on a nearby boulder and let everything settle on her. She could feel Arisha and Zetra nearby, but they stayed a discreet distance from her, as if offering her the privacy she thought she needed to sort through her emotions.

Oh, God. Jack. The baby. Their baby. Now she remembered. It was her first leave from Atlantis, after giving up two previous opportunities to come home. Jack had been furious at her, she knew, but had let her make the call to stay. But not the third time. It had come up unexpectedly, and Jack had insisted. Not like she'd needed any persuading. By then she was missing him so badly the pain of not seeing him was almost physical.

They'd barely made it home. And certainly not up the stairs. The creaking floor boards in the living room had been annoying, but they'd laughed about it afterwards, wrapped around each other, exhausted. Certain pharmaceuticals hadn't been in the last supply shipment to Atlantis, so she'd gone without, not expecting to make it home for awhile. She hadn't given it any thought until later; and back into the swing of things in Atlantis, she'd been too busy to even notice.

If only she'd known….

No. It wouldn't have changed anything. She'd have gone on the mission anyway. The results would have been the same, knowing or not. It was simply not meant to be.

She knew instantly she could never tell Jack. He tried not to be protective of her—to let her go and do what she needed to do. He trusted her skill and respected her ability, no matter what she came up against. But she knew it was the biggest burden he carried, this man whose first instinct was to protect—to save from harm, no matter what his personal cost. And it would be a double blow to him, because she knew he would somehow feel that he had failed to protect her and their child, just as he felt he had failed to protect his son all those years ago.

She couldn't think of what it would do to him.

She would have to keep this to herself, when she made it back.

If she made it back.

The stark reality of this thought yanked her back to the matter at hand. Arisha and Zetra were watching her, but still keeping away. Waiting, until she was ready to talk with them again.

"I need to get home," she told them plainly. Glancing at one another, the came to where she sat. "I have to get back to where I belong. I am from a different world. I can't stay here."

"You said you needed…something. A 'dee-aich..?" asked Zetra.

Sam picked up a nearby stick. The light was fading in a day that had been stingy with it in the first place. She motioned the two women closer.

"A DHD. It looks something like this." She sketched the circular shape in the dry dirt at her feet. "It has markings on it here." Sam indicated the various wedged shapes that ringed the device. "And this center part is red." She pointed at the circle in the center. "Now—you said that the Brothers…" the whole idea made her shudder with repulsion. "The Brothers…get rid of the blue eyed children by sending them back to the blue water that they come from." Both women nodded. "That sounds an awful lot like what we call the Kawoosh that happens when the Stargate is activated. It…well, it disintegrates anything that stands in its way. I've seen it kill several people who were unlucky enough to be standing too close to it." Yeah. Some memories she could have done without.

"If it works as you say, then you may be right. I have not actually seen this…blue water. But Malana has. She might be able to tell you better than I," said Zetra.

"But to make it work, you have to have the DHD," replied Sam, tapping the picture in the dirt with her stick.

"It is the Altar of Exile," said a voice from behind them. Sam jumped to her feet and turned to face the speaker. From behind one of the tallest standing stones a shadow emerged and stopped. The light was fading fast now, but Sam recognized both the shape and the voice.

It was Malana.

She heard Zetra sigh with relief.

"Malana…you have given us a fright. Come. Perhaps you can shed some light on this. Sam has regained her memory and believes she might be able to return to her home."

Malana did not move, and a tingly feeling began to race along Sam's spine. She did not like this one bit.

"I am sorry, Zetra." And Sam did detect a note of genuine sorrow in Malana's tone. "But it had to be done. I know you wished to protect her, but we could not take the risk. Had anyone outside the sisterhood discovered her, they would have banished us—or worse. She may be from a different world, or she may simply be a Castout who has survived by weaving a tale of deceit and treachery wherever she goes. It doesn't matter now. I have been to the Brothers and they are coming for her. Leave with me now and they will lay no blame upon you."

"Malana…no…." The betrayal on Zetra's face was evident. Sam wondered how she had doubted the woman's sincerity when the had first arrived at the temple. "We can protect her…we can save her. She doesn't belong here…she's not one of us."

"Look," said Sam, intervening. What Zetra had told her was beginning to make sense now. "You said that the Alterans—the Altera—wrote about the ones with the strange eyes bringing death to your people, right? And you said they would cull them like…?" 

"Like a wonkat culls our dobai herds," provided Arisha.

"What is that—like an animal—a predator?"

Arisha nodded. Sam turned back to Malana.

"There is a race in this galaxy—the Wraith—who did battle thousands of years ago with the Alterans—the Altera, to you. They go from world to world, culling humans like us to feed upon. And they have eyes that are—well, they aren't like human eyes at all. They are…strange, just like the Alterans wrote. It is the Wraith who the Alterans were afraid of—who they were warning of—not people whose eyes are simply a different color. Trust me—if you'd ever seen a Wraith, you would understand what they meant."

"If they go from world to world, why have we never seen one, then?" challenged Malana. "Why has our world been safe from the death and the culling, if it is not the Castouts we should have been afraid of?"

Sam shook her head.

"I don't know. We're kind of new to this part of your galaxy—it's much farther away than where we've encountered the Wraith in the past. Maybe they don't know you're even here. But believe me, they are the ones the Alterans were warning about."

"Listen to her, Malana. I believe she is telling the truth," pleaded Zetra, taking a step closer to her friend. But Malana took a step back

"You have always been a doubter, Zetra. Too much science and not enough faith." She was a mere shadow now. Twilight had come quickly. "Don't you understand…I am doing this for you and for the Sisterhood—our work is too important to let this one woman be our downfall. Leave with me now—please!"

Zetra froze where she was, and Sam saw her square her shoulders.

"I cannot. I believe her, and I will persuade the Brothers that her words are the truth."

Sam appreciated the gesture, but she had a sinking feeling that the Brothers weren't going to be swayed by her story any more than Malana was. Millenia of doctrine did not go down the drain because one person claimed she was from another world.

"Zetra…you can't," said Sam quietly. "Take Arisha and go. I'll be okay. But you need to get out of here. I won't have you suffer on my account. Either of you." She looked at Arisha whose wide eyes showed her fear all too plainly, even in the gathering dark.

Voices echoed off the stones, and bobbing up the hill were distant lights.

"Zetra—go! Please!" pleaded Sam. "For Arisha." Zetra's eyes met hers and Sam could see the woman's internal battle in them. Finally she let out a loud sigh.

"Arisha, come."

"No!" objected the girl. "This isn't right. You know it isn't right, Zetra!"

Sam put a hand on her arm.

"I'll be okay, Arisha. Maybe they'll listen to me. You did."

"Come—now!" Zetra's voice was more commanding this time. She grabbed Arisha by the other arm and pulled her over to where Malana was quickly becoming indistinguishable from the black shape of the tall stone. Stumbling on the uneven ground and pulled off-balance, Arisha half ran, half fell after Zetra and disappeared into the shadows as well.

Sam found herself alone.

She supposed she could run—try to hide. But she was in a strange place, in the dark and without any sense of direction or anything to guide her. Not even the stars. It would be a foolish strategy. Although she hadn't really believed it when she said it, convincing the Brothers of the truth of her story seemed the most prudent option at the moment.

The voices were getting louder; she could see the lights dancing in and out of the frames created by the pairs of standing stones as the path led the Brothers toward her in a circular route.

Maybe if they found her sitting here, patiently waiting for them, they would at least give her a chance to tell her story before they killed her.

Returning to the boulder, she sat down to wait.

And to tell herself, over and over again, that she was not afraid.


	6. Act 5

**ACT 5**

From where she sat Sam could see the second moon as it rose above the horizon. Both moons were up now, full, both of them, making deep shadows everywhere she looked, now that the skies had cleared and the stars were twinkling overhead.

One of them was probably where Atlantis was. Home. Well. Not really. Home was DC. Or Minnesota. Or Colorado Springs. Basically, it was anywhere Jack was, because for her home had never been so much a place as it had been a feeling. Jack gave her that feeling. He always had, even early on. She'd known it then, if only she'd listened to herself. Well, with age came wisdom.

And at the moment, it did not appear that she was going to have a chance to gather too much more wisdom.

Her tailbone was numb from sitting on the cold stone floor, and she had lost feeling in the one hand that they had tied her to the pillar with. The other hand was incapacitated by the sling. They'd tried to pull it out, but her cry of pain had convinced them that the limb really was quite injured and so they'd left it, tying the free one tightly, at just enough of an angle to keep the blood from properly circulating to it. Even if she did manage to escape she'd have to lay on the ground for a good ten minutes just to get the feeling back in her extremities.

Escape had been what she'd been going for, ever since the Brothers had wrested her away from her comfortable seat aboard the rock and brought her to what she assumed was the new temple. In many ways its layout was not unlike the old temple, but on a much more manageable scale. And instead of a large, functioning Staregate in the center, a much smaller replica was depicted as a mosaic in the floor.

How could people screw something up this badly? It was obvious that they'd had no understanding of the gate or its function apart from it's ability to vaporize things that were in its way. And their take on the Ancients…well, while they didn't worship them as gods, it was pretty obvious that they were the intellectual forbearers. But they had misunderstood and twisted the data so much it was barely discernable as to its origins. Daniel would have a field day, sorting out all the present and past versions of the writings and their interpretations. She wished he were here. With a little help, she might have been able to figure a way out of this. As it was, with one arm literally tied up, she was at an extreme disadvantage. And they were coming back to kill her, very soon.

The Brothers had found her where she had waited. She knew she hardly seemed a threat, and, in spite of the fact that the cowls of their tunics pretty much hid their faces and made them look like casting-call bad guys, they had not mistreated her or even roughed her up. Apart from a bad job of tying her up, that was. They'd walked by pastures of some type of domesticated animals on their way here, and Sam had the distinct impression that the Brothers were far more adept at tying up their livestock than other people. She'd even tried gnawing at the rope, but with no success. She was going nowhere. Very fast.

A slight breeze wafted past her and stirred up some dust on the floor, which danced erratically in the moonbeams. A faint sound rustled from a far corner of the temple. Probably this planet's version of rats. Just what she needed. To be gnawed to death before being disintegrated in the Stargate kawoosh.

The sound again. Closer this time. And something brushed her hand. She leapt back from it, trying to wriggle free, but to no avail. She was bound as tight as tight could be.

She felt it again but this time there was a voice with it. A quiet, whispery voice. One she knew.

"Be still. I do not wish to harm you."

"Arisha! What are you doing here?" she whispered back. She felt something cold press her hand and she knew. Arisha was cutting her free.

Seconds later the rope was left hanging and Sam was happily rubbing her wrist, freed. Arisha then handed her the knife, and Sam knew it was hers, just as the beretta was—the one Jack had given her—and the tac vest, which the girl had somehow managed to quietly drag with her. She looked pleased with herself and Sam felt she had every right to be. She would have hugged her if she could have. She so reminded her of Cassie at that age.

"Thanks!" murmured Sam, as she pulled on the rest of her gear. Arisha helped her ease her arm out of the sling and thread the cast through the arm of the vest. The weight of it was familiar and it felt good. The sling, readjusted, hampered her a little, but in all, it was

not too bad.

"Zetra is waiting outside," Arisha whispered.

Sam shook her head vigorously.

"No! You've done enough. I'll get out of this somehow. I won't have the two of you endangering yourself for me. Get out of here."

Mumbled muted voices echoed from far away within the temple and Sam and Arisha both froze. Footsteps neared them but then drifted away. Arisha jerked he head in the opposite direction than the sounds had come and Sam nodded. Slowly, and without making a sound, they crept away.

Outside the air was chill; Sam was grateful for the added warmth of her vest. She could see her breath in the moonlight and figured there would probably be another frost before morning. She followed Arisha as the girl dodged from shadow to shadow to avoid being seen. Sam was quite impressed; for someone who aspired to be healer and a botanist, Arisha was pretty decent at this special ops type of work. If they were on earth, she'd think about trying to recruit her.

Of course, if they were on earth, no one would be trying to sacrifice her in the ion wash of the wormhole either, so….

A small out-building emerged from the darkness as she followed Arisha's lead. The girl motioned to Sam to hurry, and the two of them slipped in through the doorway and out of the searchlight moons. It took Sam a moment for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark, but her ears were keen enough to tell that they were not alone inside. A third person was breathing raggedly, as if they too had just arrived a tad too quickly. When she could finally see the form in the dark, she knew who it had to be. Zetra.

"Did anyone see you?" Yes. It was Zetra.

"No," came Arisha's reply. "But I don't know how much time we have before they realize she is gone. There were plenty of them at the Temple. They are preparing the altar."

"The altar…as in…"

"Your DHD. They will need to bring it back to the old temple if they wish to activate—what did you call it? The stargate?" explained Zetra.

"Where is it now?" asked Sam. If there was any way they could take it there now, she could dial Atlantis and…oh crap.

"I don't have my GDO," she said aloud. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

"Your what?" asked Zetra. Sam moved over closer to her, so she could see her better.

"It's a small device, about this big." Sam made the dimensions with her hands. "It is black, with small buttons on it. Did you find anything like that with me or lying nearby?"

Zetra looked at Arisha, but the girl shook her head.

"I'm fairly certain that whatever we found we brought back with us. I do not recall seeing such an object."

Sam sighed.

"Without it, my people won't open the…the door on the other side. I won't be able to get through."

"You said the gate goes to many different worlds. Perhaps there is some other place you can go…somewhere where you will be safe, until your people can contact you."

Sam was glad it was dark so they couldn't see the look she was sure was on her face. Back in the Milky Way her brain had logged dozens of gate addresses. It would have been simple to merely pick one and gate there, knowing she'd be able to eventually work her way home.

But here in Pegasus…well, being in charge of the whole damn thing wasn't necessarily the same as knowing every thing. Going off world was something she rarely did anymore—the mission with Sheppard had been sort of a fluke. And since she wasn't the one dialing the gate anymore, she hadn't committed any of the other addresses to memory. And as yet they hadn't been able to establish a new alpha site. So…the only address she knew for certain was Atlantis'. And at the moment that wasn't going to do her a whole heck of a lot of good.

Unless….

Sam fumbled in her vest pocket and pulled out her radio. She'd tried it when they had first given it to her and had gotten only white noise. As long as the battery was charged….

She flipped it on and was greeted by a large burst of squawking static which made her and the other two women jump. A few moments later there was a steady hissing sound emerging from the speaker. Yeah. The battery was good. She snapped the radio off and apologized.

"Sorry. I had to find out if it still worked. I may be able to get through to the other side after all…if we can get the gate open."

"I have been watching. The Brothers store the altar—the DHD—in a large cabinet within the New Temple. They have taken it out and seem to be preparing to transport it to the old temple for the ceremony," Zetra informed her. Sam turned this information over in her mind.

"They must have a way of connecting it to the gate in order to power it up and activate the dialing sequence. I don't know how to steal it and get it all the way there without getting caught, let alone getting it installed once we're there."

"We will help you," Arisha assured her. Sam placed her hand on the girls' shoulder.

"I thank you…and you're very brave—both of you. But I won't let you risk that much for me. Besides. I'm not sure it's even possible. The DHD is made out of the same stuff as the stargate. It's pretty indestructible, and therefore it's pretty darn heavy."

"Then we let the Brothers carry it for us," suggested Zetra.

"How?" asked Sam. Without weapons or some other brute force, there was no way those Brothers were going to willingly transport the DHD back up to the old temple, especially when their prize sacrificial lamb was on the loose and not cooperating.

"You will not like my idea, but it is the only one that will work. You will have to trust me, Samantha. Is that something you can do?"

In the dark Sam could see Zetra's piercing eyes. She didn't hesitate a moment. There wasn't even a thread of suspicion in her.

"Just tell me what I need to do," was all she said in return.

o-o-o-o

Sheppard sat at the head of the table in the briefing room and looked over Major Lorne's search and rescue plan. He'd set up his erstwhile office in here, since he could not bring himself to do much more than step into Carter's office, and that was only when he desperately needed something out of her files that wasn't on the main computer. He'd been in there exactly four times in the past two weeks.

The plan was good. Lorne's team plus the remainder of his. A UAV. A MALP with a range boosted transceiver. A sweep pattern that covered a five mile radius from the stargate by foot and another that covered a two hundred mile radius using a Puddle jumper. Not to mention that the Apollo was en route, with it's sophisticated sensors and it's ability to locate that subcutaneous transmitter that all SG members now had implanted under their skin.

The MALP was being upgraded now and the UAV was being prepped. The Puddle jumper was running its diagnostics and would be on stand-by if it was needed. All Lorne needed was the go-ahead. And a little light. Dawn was still a good hour away, by their estimates.

Sheppard put his signature on the bottom and pushed the paper back toward the Major.

"Find her," was all he said. "Find her and bring her home."

o-o-o-o

From where she sat Sam could see the first moon as it settled onto the rim of the horizon. It looked huge. An illusion, Sam knew, brought about by the angle of the light and the…. No. She didn't think she needed to be giving herself an astronomy lesson at the moment. Although she was struggling to stay awake.

Her tailbone was numb from the extra hours of sitting on the cold stone floor, and she had lost feeling in that one hand tied to the pillar all over again. She was downright cold, but she'd had to surrender her vest or else someone might have noticed that she hadn't been wearing it before. In all it was one of the most miserable nights she'd spent in a long time.

At least this time she had her knife securely hidden inside the arm sling. And Arisha had tied the rope to the pillar in such a way that with one good yank Sam could free herself if she had to. They hadn't tied her when they'd walked her here from the stargate; she had come compliantly after they had refused to listen to her explanation. Not that she had been surprised. They were no different than most of the First Primes of the System Lords or the Priors of the Ori in their rigid adherence to doctrine, even in the face of overwhelming contradictory evidence. Perhaps if there was a constant in the universe, it was the inability to see past the end of one's own nose.

She hadn't exactly relished the idea of returning to the temple once she'd escaped, but it had been necessary to assure that both she and the DHD actually arrived at the gate at the same time. And in one piece. Zetra's idea was a good one. Sam just hoped it came off as planned. Taking the Brothers off-guard probably wouldn't be a problem. No one had ever challenged them in this way before. However, keeping them off-guard long enough for her to dial Atlantis _and_ get permission to come through was completely different. If whoever was on the phone at the other end went strictly by protocol, they'd refuse to accept her verbal code. She wouldn't blame them; they were just doing their job. On the other hand, she really didn't want to die coming up against the 'lantean shield

Enough light was starting to ooze into the temple that she could make out the digital read out on her watch. It was coming up on five am local time. Protocol dictated that the sacrifice be made at dawn.

They had better be taking that DHD up there soon, and her along with it. If they didn't, well…Zetra's plan was down the drain.

Even empty, the temple was filled with whispers and movement. But it wasn't the sounds and the shadows that were keeping Sam on edge, it was her own thoughts.

In the commotion that had followed their betrayal by Malana and the arrival of the Brothers, she had been able to push Jack out of her mind. Well, maybe not completely out, but at least to a corner of her mind where she didn't have to deal with him for the moment. But with the hours stretching out until her final break for freedom, her mind had brought Jack back to the forefront and she'd been able to think of little else.

She was sure he would have come to Atlantis. She felt a twinge of guilt over that. She had specifically told him to stay away, if at all possible, while she was posted there. He hadn't liked it, but he'd understood and had managed, up til then, to keep his involvement confined to long distance communications. It wasn't that people didn't know, although it wasn't exactly common knowledge. But at the very least she wanted to keep any impression of improper behavior at bay. There had already been a few wildly unfounded rumors running about. She didn't want to do anything to add fuel to the fire.

But no, he must have come. In his place she would have done the same thing. And they'd probably mounted a search and rescue. McKay would have figured out that the wormhole had jumped and set up some sort of search parameter based on a probability factor of the ratio of the energy hitting the gate to the distance between Atlantis and the planet they were evacuating. Still—that had to be dozens of planets. Maybe even hundreds. They simply didn't have the resources to search them all.

She hoped Jack realized that. And if not, she hoped Sheppard would set him straight. Atlantis was too vulnerable now to be off searching for it's missing CO. Maybe a couple of days, at best, they could afford an all-out search, but hopefully it had been suspended when it became apparent she wasn't nearby.

Knowing Jack, though, he wouldn't have let go so easily. Besides the whole "no one gets left behind" thing, she was his wife, after all. And that would have made it even more difficult, especially when it came time to give the order to stand down. Maybe he hadn't had to do it; maybe it had been Sheppard or Landry.

A commotion of sorts interrupted her mental wanderings. Someone was coming. A whole lot of some ones. Sam swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat. She trusted Arisha's and Zetra's intentions. She just wasn't sure she trusted their capabilities. Her whole life depended on their ability to draw the Brothers attention away long enough. But then, she figured, she really didn't have much of a choice.

o-o-o-o

The route was the same as it had been the night before, only in the early morning light Sam could see the surrounding countryside a little more clearly. Not that she was paying it particular attention. Her eye was on the DHD, which was carefully secured in a small motorized vehicle that chugged up the road ahead of them. During her two weeks with the Sisterhood she had come to recognize that the rest of this world did not live quite the simplistic and rustic life that the Sisterhood did. They had means of electronic communications, weapons which Zetra had told her were not dissimilar to her own, and modes of transportation that were mechanized. With the exception of the small communications radio which Sam had fixed, however, the Sisterhood did without all of these things. Apparently the Brothers did not.

The purpose of this vehicle, however, could not have been fast transportation. Even at top speed Sam doubted it could reach over five miles an hour. It reminded her more of a tractor, or even a lawn-mower, which struck her as ironically benign, considering the purpose for which it was being used.

The DHD was firmly strapped in the bed of the vehicle and jogged along intact. They created quite the procession, with a half dozen Brothers flanking her and another two on her six. They still wore their cowls, which Sam figured probably helped to fend off the very cold morning and wished once again that she'd been able to keep the vest.

She had tried again to reason with them, demanded to see someone in charge and struggled adequately when they'd cut her loose from the pillar. But Zetra had warned her before they had left the small out-building that any efforts like that were bound to be useless.

"They will not speak to you. They will not even acknowledge you. To do so would be to invite an interaction with evil and they would never risk that."

Sam raged inwardly. Not just for herself but for all the children who had been sacrificed for countless generations over a misinterpretation of some ancient scrawl. The more she thought of it, the more she found her emotions over it threatening to overwhelm her, until it occurred to her that maybe it wasn't just for the children of this world that she was mourning.

Yeah. Don't go there, Sam, she scolded herself, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Deal with that later. Keep the focus on the task at hand.

After a few calming breaths she felt better. Right. Tuck all that extra stuff away. Colonel Carter had to deal with the moment. Samantha O'Neill's problems would have to wait.

The distance to the stargate seemed half of what it had the night before, and before she realized it, they had stopped the vehicle and were off-loading the DHD. A small hand cart appeared and Sam saw why they had required as many Brothers as they had brought. It was no simple task to wend the thing up the walkway through the maze of stones to the center of the old temple. All seven, including the driver, were breathing heavily by the time they got it there, which Sam noted, from a tactical point of view, was a very good thing. If they were winded they'd have a slower response time and maybe she'd have a better shot at success than she'd initially thought.

Then her eyes saw something that made her stop cold in her tracks. Something that hadn't been there the night before but which seemed to have been put in place specifically for her.

A post. Sunk deep into the ground. Right in front of the stargate.

They were going to tie her to that.

Of course. An infant they could merely lay on the ground or place on a small platform, but an adult would need to be secured, especially one who professed to know what her fate was.

Plan A went right out the window.

The only problem was, she had no way of letting either Zetra or Arisha know that.

And they'd never quite made it to a Plan B.

Cold perspiration trickled down Sam's back. She tried to push the fear down but it persisted. Damn it, anyway.

Sure enough, they led her to the post and proceeded to wrap her with rope, securing her body to the post. She felt like Joan of Arc, about to be burned at the stake. She'd seen people die in the kawoosh. It was swift and she was sure painless, but the horror of seeing only smoking feet left on the ground in that little channel where the kawoosh did not reach….

That was her only hope. If she could free herself from the rope and flatten herself on the ground, then she might be low enough for the wormhole to pass over. Yes. Her knife was still hidden in the arm sling, and they had only bound her body, not tied her arms. She'd have to work fast and with stealth so they could not see she was cutting her bonds. It would be a race with the clock.

She fumbled with her left hand and curled her fingers around the knife handle. Sliding it out she began to work on the ropes immediately across her chest and her abdomen. They were thick but thankfully her knife was always pretty sharp. Coil by coil she worked her way down. She heard a kind of chanting behind her and realized that there must be some sort of ritual performed when purging the world of a Castout. Good. Let them chant as long as they wanted to. She needed all the time she could get.

The Brothers seemed reluctant to comply, however. The chanting ended after only another minute and Sam's stomach dropped as she heard that first "ka-chunk" of the symbols being pressed. In front of her the lights danced around the ring of the stargate and locked. She could almost hear Chief Harriman say: Chevron One encoded.

She cut faster.

The second symbol was pressed and the lights danced again.

Chevron Two encoded, she told herself.

Still the ropes were keeping her too tight against the pole to drop to the ground. And now she realized she had a new problem. Once the stargate was activated she would have to shut it down first before she could redial Atlantis. More delay in what was already a too tight schedule for success. She tried to think of a new plan.

Chevron Three encoded.

The knife slid from her sweaty palm but lodged in a coil that was still within her reach. She retrieved it and cursed the fact that it was her right arm that was broken. This would have gone a lot faster if she hadn't been using her left hand.

Chevron Four encoded.

There was a slight give to the rope now. She couldn't cut it completely off yet or they would see the rope slip to the ground and realize she was free. Timing had to be precise. She kept working on the remaining rope.

Chevron Five encoded.

Chevron Six encoded.

Sam heard the last symbol being pressed and the characteristic whine of the energy crystal as the large red center was activated. Her knife caught on the last strand of rope and she gave it vigorous tug. Like a magic trick the coils untightened and slipped to the ground.

Sam slipped with them.

The stargate activated. She willed herself to compress into the ground, turning her face away and closing her eyes. She didn't want to see it coming.

He skin prickled and she felt an icy wind just a hair's breadth above her cheek. A flash she could see even through her closed eyes.

And then it was over.

There was shouting. The Brothers had realized she had survived. Sam looked up and saw that the post she had been tied to was gone. What was now the top was literally millimeters above where her head had rested. It had been too close.

The familiar popping sound of a handgun rose above the ringing in her ears. That would be Zetra, proceeding with the plan. Except that she didn't know that Sam had to shut down the gate and dial again. But Sam's own escape had already alerted the Brothers that something was not right, and only half of them seemed alarmed by the distraction Zetra was making with Jack's revolver. The other half were shouting at Sam and running in her direction.

She scrambled to her feet as best she could, her balance still thrown off by her immobilized arm. She had only a split second to make her decision. Under any other circumstances rushing blindly through the stargate to an unknown address was absolutely the most foolish thing a person could do. But Sam figured it was slightly less foolish than staying where she was and letting the Brothers have another try at her.

Pebbles scattered as her feet scraped to find purchase and she half-threw, half-fell through the blue event horizon, hoping against hope that there wasn't a black hole or some worse fate awaiting her at the other end.

o-o-o-o

"Where's McKay?" Sheppard asked, looking around at the team Lorne had assembled for his search and rescue. They had decided to keep calling it that, instead of a search retrieval. Even Ronan seemed more optimistic once the discovery of Carter's GDO had been made known.

"Here, here, here," Rodney grumbled, pushing past the rest of Lorne's team to come and stand next to Sheppard. Lorne glared at him and Sheppard joined in.

McKay looked back and forth between the two of them.

"What?" he asked irritably "I had a thing…to, you know…finish up before…"

"UNSCHEDULED OFF-WORLD ACTIVATION!"

The announcement cut Rodney off short. Sheppard looked up at the control room.

"How many teams have we got off-world?" he called.

"Two," the controller answered. "And it's not either one. I'm not getting an IDC."

"Replicators?" Rodney's voice was hollow.

"Wait…" the controller called down. "I am getting a radio signal."

Sheppard was up the stairs in two seconds flat.

"Let's hear it."

There was a crackle of static and then the voice came through.

"I repeat…this is Colonel Samantha Carter, authorization code One Niner Six Niner Alpha Alpha Niner, requesting that you lower the shield. I have lost my GDO and am unable to send my IDC. I repeat…"

"Lower the shield," ordered Sheppard, his heart beating a very rapid rhythm.

"But sir," began the controller. Sheppard spared the guy one withering glare.

"Now," he commanded.

The force field around the gate shimmered out of existence. Sheppard held his breath. In fact, the whole gateroom seemed to have frozen for a few moments.

The event horizon wrinkled and out walked a woman. Her long hair hung below her shoulders and she was dressed in an odd-outfit that seemed half peasant dress half uniform. Her arm was in a sling and she was covered in dust from her head to her feet. The SF's on duty cocked their weapons, pointing them at her and she held up her good arm in surrender. Her eyes searched the room and he could see she was taking in the assembled team ready to disembark. Then she spotted him at the top of the stairs.

Sheppard didn't need any further confirmation. If there was anything at all that was distinguishable about Colonel Carter it was her eyes.

"Stand down," he called, hurrying down the steps. "Stand down, everyone. It's her."

o-o-o-o

Jack understood security. Really he did. And if there was any place that needed to be secure, it was the SGC. Still. It didn't prevent him from being irked every time he had to go through the standard screening process to enter the place. Having three stars really should have qualified him to by-pass a step or two along the way, but it just didn't work that way.

He'd been going to phone in this particular meeting, but had decided at the last minute not to. He needed to face up to this and make a formal request to Hank to have Sam's personal effects sent back from Atlantis. And for some reason he preferred to do it face to face, and not over the video conference line.

So he had flown out for the meeting. Which had been mundane and tedious as all meetings with Woolsey were, except this time the already long-faced bureaucrat had pulled an even longer face and told Jack how sorry he was to hear about Colonel Carter. What little diplomacy Jack could muster managed to spit out a "Thank you," even while part of him wanted to punch Woolsey in the face. Sam's transfer to Atlantis really had the guy's fingerprints all over it, whether anyone else wanted to believe it or not. He'd been the one who had long ago reported to Kinsey that he felt there was something inappropriate going on between Jack and Sam, even when there hadn't been. And the fact that they were married now only seemed to bolster his opinion that he had been right all along. Woolsey alone had expressed "serious concerns" about their ability to serve in the same chain of command as husband and wife, and Jack knew he had looked for any opportunity he could to split them up.

Well, it had finally worked.

In more ways than one.

He sat staring at the medals on display in Landry's office. Hank had an idea why he was really here and had asked him to wait until after the meeting. Where Hank was at the moment, though, Jack didn't really know. He had a flight back to Andrews in two hours so there was really no rush, but he had a growing sense of unrest. This place that had been so much like home to him for so many years just wasn't the same. He didn't belong; and he was eager to leave.

Sitting was never his forte. He walked out into the briefing room and looked out at the stargate. How the hell something so simple-looking could have had such a profound affect on his life he didn't know. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for the damn thing. But then again, he wouldn't be _here_ either. And _here_ was not a particularly good place at the moment.

The door behind him opened. Landry at last. But he couldn't take his eyes off the gate. It looked so innocuous just sitting there. Who knew.

Landry came and stood next to him and Jack's eyes focused on their reflection in the window.

Except it wasn't Landry.

His heart stopped for a beat. Two. Three.

A ghostly apparition was standing next to him in the reflection.

Except she wasn't a ghost. She was flesh and blood.

"Oh God! Sam!"

She was in his arms. He vaguely realized she had on a cast, but that didn't stop him from gathering her to him and holding on for dear life.

"Hi Jack," she whispered in his ear. She smelled clean, like she'd just showered. Her hair was still damp even. And down, like he liked it. She was in her green BDUs—the SGC ones, not the Atlantis ones, he noticed. Why he noticed, he had no idea. His mind was popping like flashbulbs going off in his brain. Or fireworks. He never knew joy had so much light associated with it. And color. He squeezed his eyes shut and drank her in.

He stood there holding her for a minute. Or maybe it was an hour. He didn't know. He didn't want to let go. But he had to see her too. Make sure his eyes hadn't deceived him.

He broke his grip and held her back, searching her over. Aside from the arm in the sling she seemed physically fine. Good. That was a start. Not too broken or battered. But two weeks…where had she been? What had she been through? He looked in her eyes. They would tell him.

At the moment, though, they were too filled with tears for him to see anything except how much she loved him. As they spilled down her cheeks he tried wiping them away with his thumb, but suddenly he realized he wasn't seeing so well himself. Her face and the room beyond blurred and there was a burning sensation in his eyes and a dampness on his face. She saw it too and reached up with her one good arm to wipe his face as he had hers.

Then she smiled. Half-laughing, half-sobbing.

She was okay.

He thought he saw—for just a moment—something different in her eyes, but if it was there, it passed. She was his Sam.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. He'd had no hope of ever doing that again. That he was here now, with her…he'd given up on miracles a long time ago. But maybe he had been just a bit too hasty in that. If ever there was proof…she was standing right here.

"You okay?" he said finally, although he knew she was.

"Yeah." she said quietly. "You?"

He grinned.

"Now I am."

She was sizing him up, trying to guess what he'd been going through, he could tell. After a moment she seemed satisfied he was telling her the truth.

"I had to come back, you know," she said, patting his chest with her free hand.

"Really," he countered, playing along.

"Mmmm. I found out there's a thief in Atlantis."

"A thief? You don't say." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her next to him. He hoped the cast could come off soon. It was starting to get in his way.

"I do. And can you believe it? While I was gone he came into my quarters and stole something of mine."

"Scandalous," Jack replied, pretending to look shocked. He let his hands drift a little lower. She didn't seem to mind.

"Indeed," she said with a grin.

He freed up one hand…reluctantly…and reached inside his shirt, pulling out a set of dogtags.

"Would this be the missing item?" He dangled it in front of her. She bestowed one of her delicious grins on him and reached up to grab it. He yanked it out of reach.

"Could you describe the item in question, Ma'am," he said, holding it where she couldn't get it.

"Round, gold and it fits on this finger," she replied, doing her best to point at the fourth finger on her left hand with her other hand.

"Well then. Let's see if it fits."

He undid the chain's clasp and slid off the shiny gold ring that had still hung on it. She offered her left hand and he slid it on her finger. A strange lump formed in his throat as he did so and he heard Sam's breath catch as it slipped into place.

They looked at each other.

"Looks like it belongs there, don'tcha think?" he asked her quietly.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"I do," she replied. And then with a smile that he thought was both slightly sad and happy at the same time added:

"Always."


End file.
